

























:s.^/y- 



DE V^^ITT'S J 

SCHOOL "Exhibitions." 

FOR 

DAY AND SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 

BEING A COLLECTION OF 

AEEANGED EXEECISES, 

CONSISTING OF 

§ts\nminmx^, fctitatwitis, gialcgucis, SHaMmtx, ®tc. 

SELECTED FOR USE AT 

CHRISTMAS, NEW-YEARS, AND OTHER HOLIDAYS, 

AT THE CLOSE OF SCHOOL TERMS, AND ON GENERAL OCCASIONS. 

COMPILED AND ARRANGED 

BY 



AN/' EXPERIENCED ,^EACHER. 



K '■■jf' Qv~)^ 



■An -ib 1803^ f 



Im foife : 
DE WITT, PUBLISHER, 

No. 33 EosE Steeet. 



Copyright, 1883, by A. T. B. De Witt. 



.Co 



PEEFACE. 

f 

The intent of this little volume is not so much to present and 
introduce any new or novel features in Entertainments of Day 
and Sunday Schools, usually termed "Exhibitions," as to arrange 
in convenient form such exercises, new and old, as have been 
found by experience to be appropriate for such entertainments, 
and adapted to the capacities of those who on such occasions sus- 
tain the respective parts and characters, and to provide exercises 
of such scope that all the members of a school, from the primary 
to tlie most advanced department, may participate in them with- 
out difficulty. 

The com[)iler has experienced no little difficulty, and consumed 
no small amount of time, in gathering from various sources the 
material used in such entertainments, from time to time, and the 
thought that the experience so gained might be useful to others, 
who for lack of time and want of the proper books to select from, 
have encountered similar difficulties, was the primary motive for 
the publication of this book. 

No claim is laid to originalit}^ except as to a small portion of 
the contents of this book ; and to the authors and composers who 
may herein recognize portions of their own handiwork, due credit 
has l)een given, and the compiler's thanks are tendered. 

The instructions given for arranging and presenting the Exhibi- 
tions are full and clear, and will, if followed, the writer thinks, 
insure a pleasant and instructive entertainment. 



CONTENTS 

OP 

soi3:ooiLi " E:2^:E3:x:BiTio:isrs- 



PAGE 

Preface 2 

A Christmas Festival. With Music 5 

A New Year's Festival 18 

New Year's Presents 18 

Turning Over a New Leaf 27 

Dotty Dunning's New Year's Party 29 

Taking Stocl^; 35 

A New Year's Drama. With Music 38 

Question of tlie New Year's Last Night 54 

The New Year's Benediction 56 

A New Year's Song. With Music 56 

An Exhibition of Tableaux 58 

Whittier's Barefoot Boy 58 

Curiosity 60 

Women's Work in Olden Times. With Music 61 

The Red Man 63 

Little Boy Blue 65 

The Light of Other Days. With Music 66 

John Anderson Q7 

Little Children 68 

The Milkmaid 69 

Sweet Home 70 

The Child Violinist 72 

Playing Take Tea 73 

A Country School 74 

The Children's Centennial 7Q 

Robin's Return 78 

Learn to Keep House 80 

The Dirge of the Clam 81 

A Dream of the Past 83 

Street Scene in New York 84 

The Baby's Picture 87 

The Little Tambourine Phiyer 89 

The Centennial Exhibition 91 

Whittier's Centennial Hymn. With Music 91 

Brvaiifs Centennial Ode 93 



4 CONTENTS. — SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS.'' 

PAGE 

* Song. "America." 93 

Prophecy of the Future Gloi-y of America 94 

Song from the '• Singers of 1776." 95 

My Native Laud, I Love Thee. Recitation 96 

Tlie Bell of Freedom. Declamation 97 

Our Foe in 1776-1876 98 

Tliat Banner a Hundred Years Old. Recitation 99 

Song by the '• Singers of 1776." With Music 100 

This Centennial Year. Declamation 101 

1776 and 1876. Dialogue 102 

The Song of 1876. Recitation 106 

Woman's Work One Hundred Years ago. Tableau, with 

Music 107 

Eight Scenes from a Historical Drama 109 

Paul Revere's Ride. Recitation 132 

Land of Our Fathers. With Music 1 35 

An Exhibition for General Occasions 138 

Opening Cliorus. With Music 138 

Advantages of Education. Declamation 140 

Pleasure Derived from the Study of Entomology. Dialogue. 141 

The Peddler. Tableau, with Music 144 

Little Brown Hands. Declamation 146 

A Declamation by a Class of Small Boys, in Concert 147 

Namini,' the Kittens. Recitation 148 

The G-liost Story. Tableau, with Music 148 

A Delinquent Tax-payer Braving the Water Boar^. Di- 

logue 150 

Three Days in the Life of Columbus. Declamation 151 

The Rejected Guest. Recitation 153 

The Clock's Sermon. Recitation 154 

A Class Recitation, in Concert 155 

Faith, Hope and Charity. Recitation, with Music 156 

Our Tramps. Dialogue 159 

Our Singing School Tableau 160 

A School Girl's Strategy. Dialogue 161 

June Roses. Recitation 168 

Keei)ing Still. Dialogue 169 

Spelling Lesson. Dialogue ,.. 171 

Curfew Must not Ring To-night. Recitation 172 

The Old Cousin. Dialogue 175 

Valedictory Address 188, 190 

Closing Exercise. With Music 191 



School ''Exhibitions."' 



A CHEISTMAS FESTIVAL. 

Many Sunday schools, and some day schools, during the holidays^ 
have a Christmas festival, and distribute gifts to the superintendent, 
organist, teachers, and pupils. To make these occasions more interest- 
ing, the children frequentlj^ recite pieces, etc. It is sometimes difficult 
to obtain a sufficient number of suitable exercises where such festivals 
are held year after year. I give here a few exercises which I arranged 
for my own use on such an occasion. 

The arrangements for this piece can be made very simple, if necessary; 
even a curtain is not absolutely essential . 

When the curtain rises for the first time, it should disclose the stage 
(or that part of the room used for a stage), prettily trimmed and decor- 
ated for Christmas. On the stage there should be quite a number of very 
small children, mostly girls. Seated in a conspicuous place, near the 
middle of the stage, should be the girl (much larger than the others) 
who is to tell the Christmas Story. A second girl, not quite as large as 
the first, should ask for the story. The faces, or at least the side faces, 
of the children should be presented to the audience . When the curtain 
rises the children should be industriously engaged in making Christmas 
wreaths, etc., whilst they sing the following song. (It is supposed to be 

Christmas Eve.) 

From '* Sacred Songs," published in 1842. 



li 



ISI 



t^tth 



B^ 



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32—; 



lEE 



1. Hiirk ! the glad sound, the Saviour comes, The Saviour 



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prom - ised long; Let ev 



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heart pre - 



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pare 



a throne, And ev 



ery voice a song. 



SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS/ 

2. Our glad hosannas, Prince of Peace, 
Thy welcome shall proclaim ; 
And Heaven's eternal arches ring 
With thy beloved name. 

The eldest girl should then recite this verse. 

Little children, can you tell. 
Do you know the story well. 
Every girl and every boy. 
Why the angels sing for joy, 
On a Christmas morning ? 

The girl next in size should then repeat the following verses. 

Tell me the old, old story, 

That Christmas story dear; 
How Jesus came from glory 

I long again to hear. 

Tell me the story simply, 

As to a little child ; 
For I am weak and weary. 

And helpless and defiled. 

Tell me the story slowly. 

That I may take it in — 
That wonderful Redemption, 

God's remedy for sin 1 

Tell me the story often. 

For I forget so soon; 
The * ' early dew " of morning 

Has passed away at noon I 

• 
Tell me the story softly, 

With earnest tones and grave; 
Remember, I'm the sinner 

Whom Jesus came to save. 



SCHOOL '* EXHIBITIONS." 



Tell me this Christmas story 

When you have cause to fear 
That this world's empty glory 

Is costing me too dear. 

Yes, and when that world's glory 

Shall dawn upon my soul, 
Tell me this Christmas story, 

** Christ Jesus makes thee whole." 

Ju9t the moment th£ above verses are recited, all the children on 

the stage should sing the following: 

Music from *' Sacred Songs," published in 1842. 



ii 



mzzx 



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Lift up your 
Our Sav - iour's 



voice both 
love be 



loud and strong- 
no w your song. 



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The sto - ry 



tell 



so won - drous sweet, Of 



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— * — *— 


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our 
As soon 



re - demp - tion 



so 



com - plete. 



as the above verse is sung, th£ eldest girl should begin to 
tell the Christmas story in tJiese words : 

You ask me for the story, 

That Christmas story dear; 
How Jesus came from glory 

You long again to hear. 

You want '* the old, old story," 

And nothing else will do ; 
Indeed I cannot wonder, 

It always seems so new ! 



SCHOOL ' * EXHIBITIONS, *' 

I often wish that some one 
Would tell it me each day; 

I never should get tired 
Of what he had to say. 

But I am wasting moments I 

Oh ! how shall I begin 
To tell the Christmas story. 

How Jesus saves from sin ? 

Listen, and I will tell you; 

God help both you and me, 
And make this Christmas story 

His message unto thee I 

Once, in a pleasant garden, 
God placed a happy pair; 

And all within was peaceful, 
And all around was fair. 

But oh ! they disobeyed Him; 

The one thing He denied 
They longed for, took, and tasted; 

They ate it, and — they died I 

Yet, in His love and pity, 
At once the Lord declared 

How man, though lost and ruined. 
Might after all be spared. 

For one of Eve's descendants, 

Not sinful like the rest. 
Should spoil the work of Satan, 

And man be saved and blest ! 

He should be son of Adam, 
But Son of God as well, 

And bring a full salvation 
From sin, and death, and hell. 



SCHOOL ' ' EXniBITIONS. " 



9 



Here all iJie children on the stage, except the girl who is telling the 
Christmas story ^ should sing the following veme: 

From the " Musical Cabinet," published in 1824. 




3 



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:± 



lf=T- 



9—^- 



Sal - va -tion ! the joy - ful sound ! 



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M-r 



What pleas - ure to our ears ; 



1?=*- 



soverei;:n 



:t»iH: 



0-^ 



a= 



m^^^l 



balm for ev - ery wound, A cor - dial for our fears. 

The narrator of the story, then proceeds. 
Four thousand years were over; 

Adam and Eve had died, 
The following generation, 

And many more beside. 

At last some shepheids watching 

Beside their flocks at night. 
Were startled in the darkness 

By a strange and heavenly light. 

Some of the holy angels 

Had come from heaven above, 
To tell the true, true story 
Of Jesus and his love. 

Tlie speaker should here he interrupted by some one dnging these 
two tierses. Ihese might he sung hy the children on tlie stage^ 
hut tlie effect would he heiter if they should he sung hy some 
person unseen to the audience in a soft^ sweet voice j at a little 
distance. 



10 



SCHOOL ''EXHIBITIONS. 



From " Sacred Songs," published in 1842. 



l/^n-- 



f=^ ^- 



f^' 9- 



1. Lis - ten to 
0- 



the 



wondrous sto - ry, 



Which til ej^chaD tin hymns of joy; " Glo - ry in the 

L 1 1 L *^^ — ^S*^ 

hish - est, fflo - rv ! Glo-rv be to 



high -est, glo-ry! Glo-ry be to God most high." 

2. Christ is born, the Great Anointed; 
Heaven and earth His praises sing ! 
O, receive whom God appointed, 
For your prophet, priest and king. 

After tJie singing, ilie narrator immediately resumes the story. 
The wise men seeking Jesus, 

Followed the beckoning star, 
And found Him in a manger 

And spread the news afar. 

The cJiildreny or some person unseen to tlie audience^ should then 
sing the following 'cerse. 

From " Sacred Songs," published in 1842. 



^1 






;>— ^— H^ 



-I— i- 



^-H 



Cold on His era - die the dew-drops are shining, 



^— w- 



Low lies His head with the bensts of the stall: 



iBE 



—< -' — ^— y- Yi — ^— i; — ^— Eld -^^■ 



An - gels a - dore Him in slum - ber re • ciin - ing, 



SCHOOL "exhibitions/* 11 



m 



-N — ^-h 



^ — ■ — — ^' ^. 



—0 sr- 

Mak - er and Mon > arch and Sav - iour of all. 

The story is continued. 

And opening their treasures. 

While kneeling at His feet. 
They precious gifts did offer. 

As seemed to them most meet. 

The children^ or one person, should then sing these verses to ths 
music of the last verse sung. 

Say, shall we yield Him in costly devotion, 

Odors of Edom and offerings divine ? 
Gems of the mountain and pearls of the ocean. 

Myrrh from the forest, or gold from the mine ? 

Vainly we offer each ample oblation; 

Vainly with gifts would His favor secure ; 
Richer by far is the heart's adoration ; 

Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor. 

The girl immediately resumes the story. 

Our Christmas day, dear children, 

Is Jesus Christ's birthday; 
A holiday you call it, 

And spend the hours in play. 

But ne'er forget that Christmas 

Is a holy day as well, 
And this sweet Christmas story 

To others you should tell. 

Jesus is God's Christmas gift 

To each and every one, 
And we should thank our Father 

Who gave us His dear Son. 



12 



SCHOOL EXHIBITION*. 



Children, on this Christmas Eve, 

While saints and angels sing, 
Give Christ a gift— your childish hearts 

As precious offerings bring. 

Wlien the story is finished y all the cMldren on the stage should sing 

the following : t 

Music from ' ' The Juvenile Singing School, " published in 1841 . \ 



■8^ 



=F= 



^ 



1. Haste, O Christmas, Christmas dear, Haste to 



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ji m 




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T • F 




^ ^ .^ 


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L_! \ 1 ^ J 



greet our chil - dren here. 



We have wait - ed, 

D. c. 



d= 



1 



wait - ed long, Come in an - swer to our song. 
As the last note of tlie above music dies a^cay, the response should 
he heard in the distance, faintly hut plainly, growing louder 
arid louder, until Christmas advances to the centre of the 
platform, singing. Christmas should he dressed in some 
appropriate costume, perhaps in a long white or fur rohe, ad- 
orned with sprigs of holly and ewrgreen, and an evergreen 

wreath on 7ier head. 

From the Boston Melodeon . ' ' 






-^— y- 



-^— ^ - 



zt^z 



--^— N- 



I come, I come ! ye have caii'd me long, I come o'er the 



-0—0- 






^s 



B=?=E 



mountains with light and song : Ye may trace my steps o'er the 



mk 



-0 — #- 



-K— N 



— — ^ — N- 

1 i 



-^— ^ 






Sleeping earth, By the songs of watchers a-waiting my birth. 



SCHOOL ''exhibitions." 13 

It is needless for me to tell you that I am Merry Christmas, 
who never yet has asked in vain for a kindly welcome on my 
annual visit. It is not in the beautiful spring-time, neither in 
the laughing summer, nor yet in mellow autumn, that I visit 
the earth, but the cold, dreary winter I lighten and gladden by 
my presence, till December is the gladdest, most welcome and 
most honored month of all the twelve. 

Thousands of willing hands prepare the wreaths and gar- 
lands for my coming, and the evergreens and immortelles speak 
of the unfading hope that fills each heart, when we remember 
our first great Christmas Gift. 

At my approach, the Christmas trees bud and blossom , and 
their green bough bend beneath their weight of precious fruit. 
Oh, how dearly I love to watch the sparkling eyes of the chil- 
dren, when they catch the first glimpse of the Christmas can- 
dies, nuts and raisins, the books, the statues, the gay pictures, 
curious toys and games, the sleds, the skates, the velocipedes 
for boys, and the w^ork-baskets, baby-houses, and the beautiful 
waxen dolls for girls. I think there are no playthings in which 
most little girls so greatly delight as dolls ; for this reason I ask 
your careful attention to three of my wonderful wax dolls 
which I have brought with me this year. I make the claim, 
which I know you will all admit is indisputable, that nowhere 
in the wide world can dolls be found that can compare in any 
manner with mine. 

Christmas should then step a little to one side, and, motioning 
slightly to a gentleman who has received the necessary instruc- 
tions, the latter brings forward, one by one, three pretty little 
girls perhaps four years of age, and places them in a row 
near the centre of the platform. The children should be 
taught to press their elbows firmly to their sides, the lower part 
of each arm being at right angles with the upper part. The 
gentleman can place his hands under the children's elbows 
and thus they can be carried wherever necessary. It will be 
more amusing if the fingers of the liitle girls should be spread 
apart in as strange a manner as possible. Then, as the gen- 
tleman places each girl in position, he should bend each finger 



14 SCHOOL ''exhibitions." 

naturally and arrange the hands as desired. The girls must, 
of course, he taught to act as if they were really wax. I have 
found by experience that many small children can do this in 
a very satisfactory manner. Chkistmas then continues her 
speech. 
Here are the dolls of which I have just spoken. Did you 
ever see anything as beautiful before ? 

I know most little girls would be wonderfully delighted 
should they have the gift of a waxen Parisian doll, that cost, 
say twenty-five dollars. Oh, how they would expatiate upon 
the lovely face and features, the jointed Hmbs, the movable 
eyes, and the natural hair. Such dolls, I freely admit, are quite 
good enough for children, but how do they compare with 
these ? Did you ever see such fine large dolls ? Just look at 
their hair ; it is all natural, too. Most of the dolls you are 
accustomed to play with either cannot move their eyes at all, 
or their eyes can only be closed when lying down. Just no- 
tice, if you please, how naturally the eyes of these dolls open 
and close. 

Christmas passes her hand behind the head of one of the doUs, 
and pretends to touch a spring, wh^n the doll opens and 
closes its eyes very slowly. The other dolls could then be wude 
to open and close their eyes, if it seems desirable, 

I do not think any of you ever before saw a doll that could 
walk. This is a walking doll. {She points to the doll nearest to 
her.) You would think by its walk that it is a real little girl. 

Christmas motions to the gentleman, and he lifts the child, stands 
her in a conspicuous place, pretends to touch the spring, and 
then the child icalks along in a straight line. The little girl 
should lift her feet in a very stiff manner, and sJiould gradu- 
ally walk slower and slower until she stops. The gentleman 
shoidd then turn the child about, pretend to touch the spring, 
and the girl should icalk again. Sh£ must be very careful 
or she will move her head or her hands when walking. When 
the child stops the second time the gentUynan must lift her back 
to her place. 



SCnOOIi ' ' EXHIBITION S. " 



15 



How delighted children usually are with a crying doll ! 
That second doll belongs to the class usually denominated 
crying dolls ; but I will now show you how superior it is to 
any you have ever before seen. In my hand I hold a crying 
doll, such as children usually consider very desirable. Just 
hear it cry ! (Christmas liolds in her hand a mry small doll, 
which she makes cry.) Now, I ask you to listen to the crying of 
yonder doll. {81ie makes a slight motion to the gentleman^ who 
appears to touch a spring, and the little girl gives a loud and wry 
long scream, which gradually subsides, as though the machinery 
xcere running dotcn.) I do not think it necessary to ask how 
these two dolls compare. 

The third is a singing doll, and such a one as even Christ- 
mas has never before introduced. It is not necessary for me 
to tell you of the charms of such a doll ; she can speak for 
herself. (Christmas motions slightly to the gentleman, who ap- 
pears to touch a spring, and the child immediately sings the fol- 
lowing song. She should he sure and stand mry still while sing- 
ing. It is hardly necessary to say that only those children that 
will he sure not to laugh should he selected for dolls.) 

Music from *' The Juvenile Singing School," published in 1844. 




;3=a-d=H^ 



^-. 



li: 



Bo - fore all uol-lies,east or west, Girls love the Christmas 



m— driz=z=:|::=:ijz:::— dzzpzi :::r3zrzipi i^^izz 



dollies best, Just such a one as 



No gold nor jew -els 






-N— J- 



-#— ^ 



can compare, With wax-en dol - lies rich and rare, That 



n- 



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3^SpE 



walk auJ sins aud cry, That walk and sing and cry. 



m 



16 SCHOOL " EXHIBITIONS. 

What amount of money do you think it would take to pur- 
chase one of these dolls ? Christmas, however, does not sell 
her gifts ; and, as the pleasure of anticipation often exceeds 
the realization, I will not tell the children just now for whom 
these dolls are intended. {She motions to thegenUeinan, w1io car- 
ries tJie dolls away.) 

It is one of my greatest pleasures to distribute gifts, an3 1 
send my mesrengers into nearly every home in the land. Two 
of these little ones are approaching now in obedience to my 
summons. 

The following is for use xchen it is proposed to give some little 
pi^esents to the superintendent, organist, etc. It can he omit- 
ted, or the words can easily le changed to suit the different 
gifts. If such gifts are to he presented hy little children, it will 
he much prettier if the seats of those wlw are to receive the 
presents can he placed so near the platform that, in offering 
ihem, the girls will vx)t he ohliged to step from the platform. 
Two or three little girls, according to the necessity of tlie case, 
should slowly pass on to the stage, each carrying the gift she 
is to present, and take the positions assigned them. The first 
girl then hows to the superintendent, and makes her address 
somewhat as follows : 

Christmas commands and we gladly obey. We are her wil- 
ling messengers. 

Kind Superintendent, we, the children, are grateful for all 
that you have done and are doing in our behalf. We woull 
thank you at this time for all the trouble you take in trying to 
teach us to become, in the future, good men and women, and 
to obey our Saviour, who so dearly loves even the little chil^ 
dren. We hope, as we grow older, to more fully appreciate 
your self-denial. By no means do we forget that this Christ- 
mas festival is due to your efforts in our behalf. 

We have been told that the smallest Christmas gift should 
not be despised, if it expresses the good wishes of some loving 
heart. 

Mr. , will you accept this Christmas cake from the 



SCHOOL ''EXHIBITIONS." 17 

little children, who wish you a ** Merry Christmas and a 
Happy New Year" 1 {The Utile girl hows and presents the cake. 
If there should he nothing hut a houquet to present that word sliould 
he suhstituted for ''Christmas cake,'' and instead of the abo^e ad- 
dress ^ something like the following may he spoken : 

We have no costly gifts to bring, only a few simple flowers; 
yet, richer than gold, brighter than gems, here, as in Eastern 
lands, they speak the pure language of the heart. 

The other child, who should he mry young, should immediately 
hegin lier address, which may he somewhat as follows : 

Christmas summons us, the youngest class in the school, to 
bring our offering to-night. 

"We gladly obey her call, as we wish to express our good will 
to the kind lady who furnishes sweet music for our school. 

We ask as a favor that she will accept this trifling gift, not, 
of course, for its value, but as a token of our affection. 

If preferred, the address giten helow may he used : 

** Little words are the sweetest ; little lakes are the stillest ; 
little hearts are the fullest ; and little farms are the best tilled. 
Little books are the most read, and little songs are the dearest 
loved." 

For this reason I, only a little girl, in behalf of myself and 
little classmates, ask permission to present to our kind friend, 
who has taught us so many beautiful little hymns, this little 
present, as an expression of the love and gratitude of little 
hearts. 

Will deign to regard our humble offering ? 

The little girl hows, presents her gift, and the children leave the 
stage, while Christmas continues her address. 

On Christmas Eve the children listen for the merry sleigh 
bells and the sound of the reindeer's hoofs, while the wide- 
mouthed stockings in the chimney corner invite a friendly 
visit from old Santa Claus, the children's friend. He is my 



18 SCHOOL '* EXHIBITIONS." 

constant companion, and will therefore visit this school to 
night. 

Both Christmas and old Santa Claus love the children, but 
they like to have them come to Sabbath school every Sunday, 
and learn their lessons well. We have brought no nice gifts 
to those who have forgotten this. Children, allow me to intro- 
duce to you dear old Santa Claus. {The cMldren clap their hands 
and shout, *' Welcome, welcome Santa Claus." Ths gifts should 
then he distHbuted.) 

TJiis exhibition is purposely made quite short, as it takes so long to 
distribute the presents. 



A NEW YEAR'S FESTIVAL. 



NO. L-NEW TEAK'S GIPTS -A DIALOGUE. 

Scene I. — A printing office. The proprietor stands at his desk, 
paying a small boy, mry poorly dressed, his week's wages. It 
is New Year's Eve, 

Employer. You needn't come to-morrow, John. {He hands 
the boy two dollars, and the latter walks towards the door. The 
proprietor calls him back.) John ! you have been a very good 
boy, and you deserve a New Year's present. Here's a dol- 
lar for you. {The boy looks wry much pleased, and his em- 
ployer, glancing at the boy's feet, notices how wry poor his shoes 
are.) Which would you rather have, John, the dollar or a pair 
of new shoes ? 

John. I'd rather have a pair of new shoes. 

Emp. Very well ; I'll write you an order on a shoemaker, 
and you can go and fit yourself. {He turns and writes the order.^ 



SCHOOL ''exhibitions.'* 19 

which he hands to the hoy. John looks up beseechingly into his 
employer's face.) 

John. I think, sir, my shoes will do very well if mended ; 
they only want mending. Wont you please write shoes for 
my mother, instead of me ? 

Emp. Does your mother need shoes badly ? 

John. Oh I yes, sir. She cannot earn much by washing 
and ironing when she is able to do it, but she sprained her 
wrist three weeks ago, and hasn't been able to do anything but 
a little housework since. 

Emp. Are your wages all she has to live upon ? 

John. They are at present. 

Emp. You have a little sister, I believe ? 

John. Yes, sir. 

Emp. Does she want shoes, also ? 

John. She has had nothing on her feet but old rags for two 
months. 

Emp. Indeed ! {He turns to his desk, and appears to he think- 
ing.) Give me that order ! {The hoy does so, and he tears it up, 
then takes his pen and writes a new one.) Take this order, John. 
I have told the shoemaker to give you three pairs of shoes, 
one for yourself, one for your mother, and one for your 
sister; and here is the dollar, raj boy, you must have that 
also. {The hoy looks greatly delighted, hut for a moment is silent 
from astonishment. ) 

John. Oh ! thank you, thank you, sir. You don't know 
how much good this will do us. 

CURTAIN FALLS. 

Scene II. ^A room very poorly furnished. The tahle set for 
supper, Mrs. Elliott sits by the table, sewing by the light 
of a tallow candle. A little girl about five years old asleep in 
a cradle or on a lounge. The woman rises, goes to the door 
and looks out. The cold makes her shiver and sJie closes the 
door and resumes lier seat. 

Mrs. Elliott. My poor boy ! It is a dreadful night for 
him to be out, and so thinly clad, too ! I wonder why he 



20 SCHOOL *' EXHIBITIONS. " 

stays so late I {There is a noise at the door, and John rushes in 
with several packages in Ms arms and three pairs of shoes in his 
hand. He gives one pair of shoes to Mrs. Elliott and holds th£, 
others for her to look at.) 

John. There's a New Year's present for you, mother, and 
here is mine, and that is Nettie's ! 

Mrs. E. Where did all these come from, John ? 

John. Why, mother, don't you think, after Mr. Andrews 
had paid me to-night and I was almost to the door, he called 
me back. I was so afraid he had changed his mind and was 
about to tell me I must come to the office to-morrow as usual. 
Instead of this he gave me a dollar for a New Year's present. 
Oh 1 wasn't I pleased ! I suppose he happened just then to 
notice my ragged shoes, for he asked me which I would rather 
have, the dollar or a pair of shoes. Of course I said the shoes. 
Then he wrote me an order for a pair. All the while he was 
writing I was trying to get courage to ask him to give jo\jl the 
shoes instead of me. When I told him what I wanted he 
seemed so surprised, and he asked me ever so many questions 
about you and Nettie. Then he tore up the order and began 
to write again. Didn't I wonder what he was going to say ! 
Wasn't I surprised when he told me I could have three pairs 
of shoes and keep the dollar beside ! I wonder if there was 
ever a boy so happy as I ! Why, I could hardly thank him; 
but if I ever get to be a rich man wont I give all the poor 
children New Year's presents ! I shan't mind if they don't 
know how to thank me; I shall remember just how I felt 
when we were poor, and I shall know they are thankful in- 
side. 

Mrs. E. Why, John, John, how fast you do talk 1 Oh ! 
how kind Mr. Andrews was ! What nice presents he has 
given us, and how thankful we ought to be I 

John. I knew the size of shoes you wear, and I thought I 
could guess at Nettie's size. If they don't fit, the man says 
he will change them ; and I'll go clear back to the store to- 
night, but what she shall have her new shoes for New Year's. 
Wont she be glad t I wish she were awake. 



SCHOOL ''exhibitions." 21 

Mrs. E. But you have not told me yet what is in these par- 
cels. 

John. Oh I I forgot. That is tea, and this is sugar. {He 
lays the two parcels in her lap.) They are your New Year's pres- 
ents from me. It is a long time since you have had any tea and 
sugar, isn't it ? This is rice, and it is a present for us all. 
Can't we have it for dinner to-morrow ? Wont you make us 
a rice pudding ? 

Mrs. E. You are a good boy, John, a very good boy. How 
thankful a mother ought to be who has such a son. Yes, you 
shall have a rice pudding, of course. Now take off your 
shoes, my son, for your feet must be very wet. 

John. No, mother, not yet. I want you to try on Nettie's 
shoes and see if they fit. If they don't, I am going back to the 
store for a pair that will. She must have her shoes for New 
Year's. 

Mrs. E. WeU, John, I will try them on. It is not every lit- 
tle girl that has such a brother. (She tries on the shoes.) Just the 
thing I 

John. Now, mother, try yours on; maybe they wont do. 
(Mrs. Elliott tries on one of the shoes.) 

Mrs. E. They couldn't fit better. Now take off your wet 
shoes, while I put the supper on the table. {Some one knocks, 
and Mbs. Elliott opens the door.) 

Enter Mr. Mayfield. 

Mr. Mayfield. Good evening, Mrs. Elliott. 

Mrs. E. Why, good evening, Mr. Mayfield. Walk in, if 
you please. Take a seat. {She hands her visitor a chair.) 

Mr. M . How is your wrist, Mrs. Elliott ? Do you think 
you will be well enough to do my washing soon ? 

Mr«. E. My wrist is better, thank you ; but I am not well 
enough to wash yet. A sprain is long in getting well. 

Mr. M. How do you get along ? Can you do any kind of 
work ? 

Mrs. E. Only a little about the house. 

Mr. M. Then you don't earn anything at all ? 



23 SCHOOL ''EXHIBITIONS." 

Mrs. E. No, sir — nothing. 

Mr. M. How do you manage to live, Mrs. Elliott ? 

Mrs. E. We have got along the best we could on John's two 
dollars a week. 

Mr. M. Two dollars a week ! You can't live on two dol- 
lars a week, Mrs. Elliott; that is impossible. 

Mrs. E. It is all we have. (Mr. Mayfield is silent for some 
time and seems lost in thougJit.) 

Mr. M. I shall consider it a favor, Mrs. Elliott, if you will 
allow me to send you a few things to-night as a New Year's 
present. This is the season when friends remember each 
other, and tokens of good will are passing in every direction. 
I have friends, too, and I have laid aside a certain sum of 
money for the purchase of New Year's presents for them, but 
I cannot think of anything of which they stand in need, and 
you must be in great want. I think, therefore, that I cannot 
do better than to spend all I designed giving for this purpose, 
in making you a little more comfortable. When the man 
comes with what I shall send, you will know it is for you. 

Mrs. E. Oh ! Mr. Mayfield, how can I thank you. But, 
surely, it is not right for you to spend all your New Year's 
presents on one old woman. You have other friends who will 
expect to be remembered. 

Mr. M. Do not feel troubled, Mrs. Elliott. Those whom I 
have reason to know are friends, will understand perfectly that 
I had good reasons for the seeming omission. Good night, 
Mrs. Elliott. I will drop in and see you again before long. 

Mrs. E. Good night, Mr. Mayfield. I wish you as happy a 
New Year as you have given me. 

CURTAIN FALLS. 

Scene III. — A sitting room, Mrs. Green sewing, Mr. Green 
reading, Jane and Lizzie Green and tlieir cousin, Mar- 
garet, engaged infancy work. 

Margaret. Didn't Edward Mayfield make you any kind of 
a New Year's present, Lizzie ? 
Jane. No, not even a brass thimble, that he could have 



SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS." 23 

bought for a penny. I think he is a right-down mean, selfish, 
stingy fellow ; and if he does not keep Lizzie on bread and 
water when he gets her, my name's not Jane Green. 

Margaret. I wouldn't have him, Lizzie. Just think of his 
letting New Year's go by without making his sweetheart or 
her sister a present of even the most trifling value I He must 
have a small soul. Why, Harry Lee sent me "Tennyson's 
Poems and a pair of the most beautiful flower vases you ever 
saw, and he only comes to see me as a friend. Cousin Wil- 
liam made me a present of an expensive oil painting, and I re- 
ceived a great many other things from my friends. Why, my 
table is covered with presents. 

Lizzie. You have certainly been very fortunate, if to receive 
a great many New Year's presents you consider a fortunate 
matter. 

Margaret. But, honestly, Lizzie, don't you think Edward 
ought to have sent you some token of good will and affection 
in this holiday season, when every one is giving and receiving 
presents ? 

Lizzie. IS othing of the kind was needed, cousin Maggie, as 
an expression of his feelings towards me. He knew that I 
understood their true quality, and he probably felt that making 
me a present would have been useless formality. 

Margaret. Well, at least he might have passed the compli- 
ments of the season with Jane. 

Jane. Certainly he might. Lizzie needn't try to excuse him 
after this lame fashion. Of course there is no excuse for this 
omission, except meanness — that's my opinion, and I speak it 
out boldly. 

Lizzie. It isn't right to speak so, sister. Edward has other 
reasons for omitting the prevalent custom at this -season — and 
good reasons, I am assured. As to the charge of meanness, I 
don't think the fact you allege sufiicient ground for making it. 

Margaret. Well, I do. Why, if I were a young man and 
engaged to be married to a young lady, I'd sell my shoes but 
that I'd give her something for a New Year's present. 

Jane. Yes, or beg or borrow the money. 



24 SCHOOL "exhibitions." 

Lizzie. Each one must do as he or she thinks best. As for 
me, I am contented to receive no holiday gift, being well sat- 
isfied that meanness on the part of Edward has nothing to do 
with it. 

Margaret. Well, come, girls, don't let us sit here all this 
pleasant afternoon discussing the merits of Edward. Let us 
go out for a walk. 

Lizzie. So we will, Maggie. 

Mrs. Green. Girls, if you are going to walk, I wish you 
would stop at the post-office and bring up our letters. 

Lizzie. Yes, mother. Come, Jane, don't you intend to go, 
too? 

Jane. I don't care much about it, but perhaps I might as 
well. {The girls leaxe the room.) 

Mrs. Green. I do wish Edward had made Lizzie some kind 
of a present, if it had been only for the looks of the thing. Jane 
has been teasing her about it ever since, and calls it nothing 
but meanness in Edward, and I am a little afraid he is close. 

Mr. Green. It is better to be a little close than to be too 
free. B[e is doing very well at his business. He has a salary 
of a thousand dollars, and I suppose it does not cost him more 
than four or fsNQ hundred to live— at least it ought not to do 
so. 

Mrs. Green. He has bought a snug little house, Lizzie 
says, and he has just finished paying for it. 

Mr. Green. If he has done that he has done very well, and 
I can forgive him for not spending his money upon New 
Year's presents, that are often not of much use, say th-e best 
you will of them. I'd rather Edward would have a comfort- 
able house to put his wife in, than to see him loading her down 
with presents before they are married. 

CURTAIN FALLS. 

Scene IY. — Mrs. Green's sitting room. Mr. and Mrs. 
Green, Lizzie, Jane and Margaret present 

Mrs. Green. I declare, girls, we have entirely forgotten our 



SCHOOL ''exhibitions." 25, 

washerwoman, poor Mrs. Elliott. It is some weeks since she 
sent us word she had sprained her wrist, and could not do our 
washing until it was better. I think you ought to go and see 
her this morning. I shouldn't wonder if she stood in need of 
assistance. She has two children, and only one of them is old 
enough to earn anything, and even his pay must be very small. 
"We have done very wrong to forget Mrs . Elliott. 

Jane. You go and see her, Lizzie. I don't care about visit- 
ing poor people in distress ; it makes me feel badly. 

Mrs. Green. You ought to feel happy that you are able to 
relieve the wants of the poor, Jane. 

Jane. I don't suppose it is right to feel as I do, but I had 
rather not go. 

Lizzie. Oh I yes, Jane, do go with me ! I want you to go 
very much. Poor Mrs. Elliott ! Who knows how much she 
may have suffered ! 

Mrs. Gbeen. Yes, Jane, I wish you to go with Lizzie. 

Jane. Well, if I must I suppose I must; but I want to tell 
you now, Lizzie, after we have seen Mrs. Elliott I am coming 
directly home. If you wish to go to the office, you must go 
alone. 

Lizzie. Yery well, Jane. Will you go with us, Margaret ? 

Margaret. Yes ; anything for a change. 

[Mceunt Lizzie, Jane and Margaret. 

curtain falls. 

Scene Y.— -Mrs. Elliott's room, Mrs. Elliott sewing, 
Nettie playing with a doll TTiere is a knock, and Mrs. 
Elliott opens the door. 

Enter Lizzie, Jane and Margaret. 

Mrs. E. Good afternoon, young ladles. Walk in, if you 
please. Take some seats. 

Lizzie. How is your wrist, Mrs. Elliott ? 

Mrs. E. It is better, thank you; still, it is too lame for me 
to do much hard work. 



2G SCHOOL ''EXHIBITIONS/ 

Lizzie Mother wished us to come around and see how you 
are getting along. She told us to be sure and inquire if you 
stood in need of anything. 

Mks. E. You are very kind to take so much trouble to in- 
quire after us. You tell your mother I do not stand in need 
of anything now. I should have needed almost everything, if 
Mr. Mayfield, one of the gentlemen I washed for before I hurt 
my wrist, had not remembered me at Kew Year's. He sent me 
a nice little stove and a ton of coal, a barrel of flour, meal, 
potatoes, tea, sugar, a chicken, a thick warm shawl, stockings, 
five dollars in money, and some other things. I shall never 
forget him. He came on New Year's Eve and inquired so 
kindly how I was getting along and then told me that he 
would send me a little present instead of sending to those 
who didn't really need anything, and who might well forgive 
him for omitting the usual compliments of the season. 

Lizzie. Then you do not need anything ? 

Mrs. E. No, not now. I thank you kindly for your inter- 
est, but I am very comfortable. Long before my provisions 
are gone, I hope to be able to take in washing again, and then 
I shall not need any assistance. {Tlie girls rise and go to the 
door.) 

GiKLS. Good afternoon, Mrs. Elliott. 

Mks. E. Good afternoon, j^oung ladies. 

CURTAIN FALLS. 

Scene YI. — Mrs. Green's sitting room. Mr. and Mrs. 
Green present, also Jane and Margaret. 

Lizzie enters with her things on. 

Lizzie. Here, father, are your letters and papers. 

Jane . Oh I Lizzie, I am so glad you have come I I have 
just been telling father and mother about what Mrs. Elliott 
said of Edward. I owe you an apology. Forgive me for my 
harsh judgment of l.im. He is generous and noble-hearted. I 
would rather he had done this than made you a present of 
the most costly remembrance, for it stamps his character. 
Lizzie, you may well be proud of him. 



SCHOOL '* EXHIBITIONS." 27 

Mrs. Green. I am glad, Lizzie, you have chosen a good 
man, rather than a rich or great one. 

Mr. Green. That was a noble deed ! There is the ring of 
the genuine coin ! I, too, am proud of him. We must learn 
a lesson from Edward, and next year we must strive to im- 
prove our system of holiday presents. How many hundreds 
of dollars are wasted m useless souvenirs and pretty trifles, 
that might do a lasting good if the stream of kind feelings 
were turned into a better channel. 

CURTAIN FALLS. 



KO. II-TUEiriNG OVEE A IHIW LEAP. 

A DECLAMATION. 

There are few people in the world who do not feel at times 
that it is a very great privilege to be able to *' turn over a new 
leaf." Let me see. Perhaps you are learning to play on the 
piano. Your teacher puts the music book up before you, and 
you thump away, an hour at a time, several days out of each 
week. You put pencil marks under the notes to tell which 
fingers to use, and figures over them to make the counting 
easy. The page becomes soiled and dingy. You are tired 
seeing it every day. You wonder if you will ever be able to 
play it all over without a mistake. Your lot seems a hard one, 
to be sure ; but how soon you forget all your troubles, when 
at last the teacher says, ** Now you may turn over a new leaf 1 " 

Some of you will remember when you began to learn to 
write, how awkwardly you held the pen, and how slowly you 
had to move your fingers to make the straight lines and the 
round O's on the first page. Perhaps a great drop of ink came 
from your pen upon the clean white paper; and very likely 
you tried to rub it off, and so made a long-tailed black comet 
clear across the page. How sorry you were ! How ashamed 
to let your teacher see it I Yet you didn't finish the page that 
day, or the next, or the next. It was slow work, and oh I 



28 SCHOOL " EXHEBITIONS." 

how tired you became, at seeing that great horrid blot before 
your eyes all the time. What a relief it was, when you had 
finished the last line on that soiled page, to be able to '' turn 
over a new leaf.'^ 

I used to think if ever I should be old enough to write a 
book of some kind, I should be a great man. I did not know 
then, what I afterwards found out, and what, perhaps, you 
have not thought of yourself. It is this. I was writing a 
book all that time, and I am writing one yet, and so are you. 
My life is a hoolc, and so is yours. As we go on in life, day by 
day, and year by year, we are, every one of us, writing some 
kind of a book, line by line, and leaf by leaf. One strange 
thing about this book-writing in which we are all engaged, is 
that we can none of us ever stop on any one day and go back 
to correct what we have written before. If mistakes have 
been made, they must remain; if we have blotted the page, 
the blot must stay, however black it looks. Oh ! this book 
writing of ours would be dreadful, but for one thing— we can 
each day turn oxer a new leaf, and at least try to write better 
than we have ever done before. 

Now, in the year that is past and gone, you and I — all of us 
— have done many things that are wrong. We have written 
many things of which we ought to be ashamed. What are we 
going to do about it ? We cannot go back or erase. These 
records, as far as they have gone, must remain, to witness, for 
or against us, at the last Great Day, when the ** books shall be 
opened, " Poor as our books have been, and unalterable as is 
the past , one blessed privilege is still ours — we can turn oxer a 
Tiew leaf! 

Now, at the beginning of this new year, are there not some 
things in which you can turn over a new leaf ? Cannot you 
write the rest of your book so well that it will be honored with 
a second edition in the better world ? If you do, then in this 
new edition the old blots will be wiped away, and the long 
lists of mistakes will be corrected. There is only one thing 
that can take the blots out of your life or mine . It is the 
blood of Jesus Christ. It cleanseth from sin. It is only 
through the wondrous Redemption wrought out by our 



SCHOOL ** EXHIBITIONS." 29 

Saviour that God is able to cry out, as He does to a world of 
blotted lives, *' J, even /, am He that Uotteth out J* 

Dear friends, as to the past, look up unto God, who only, 
through Christ, can blot out our mistakes; and, as to the 
future, let us all, old and young, right now, at the beginning 
of this new year, turn over a new leaf! 



m. HL-DOTTT DUmnNG'S KEW TEAE^S PAETT. 

A DIALOGUE. 

Scene I. — Eecess at school. Eight little girls playing. 

Clem Manners. Why, Dotty Dunning, how did you come 
to lose your place in the geography class ? 

Dotty Dunning. Well, now, Clem Manners, I'll just tell 
you. I could not learn that lesson any how you could fix it. 
I don't see what those German people gave such horrid names 
to their cities and rivers for. I tried to study real hard, but 
every time when I thought I was studying good, I'd find I 
was only thinking what I should have to eat at my New Year's 
party. 

Fanny Adams. Are you really going to have a New Year's 
party, Dot ? 

Dotty. Yes, I am. 

Hattie Palmer. Did your mother say you might have a 
party ? 

Dotty. Why, I don't know as she exactly said I might 
have a party, but she told me I might invite some little girls to 
see my presents, and play with me on New Year's day. 

Carrie Phillips. I don't call it a party unless you have 
something to eat. 

Dotty. Of course I shall have refreshments. 

Hattie. Did your mother say you might ? 

Dotty. I never asked my mother. I am going to do it all 
my ownself . 



80 SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS." 

Hattie. Why, I should think you would ask your mother 
first 1 

Dotty. No, I shan't. She's real loving; she won't care. 
I'm going to have it a surprise. 

Eva Burr. Why, Dotty Dunning, I don't believe you can 
cook a bit good I 

Dotty. Well, Eva Burr, I just guess I can. I've cooked 
lots of times. Besides, you know, our teacher says little girls 
ought to learn how to cook, and it's time I began. 

Minnie Morgan. I wish you would learn good, before you 
have your party. 

Dotty. I guess I can cook good enough for you, Minnie 
Morgan. 

Lottie Howard. Are you going to invite us all ? 

Dotty. I don't know. I shall have to count you first. 
On^ two, three, four, five, six, seven. My mother said about 
hall a dozen, and that is six, 30U know; but seven is next to 
half a dozen, and I guess it wont make much difference. You 
may all come. Be sure and wear your best dresses, because I 
want to tell the other girls we had a real stylish party. Clem 
Manners, I want you to be sure and bring your dear little dog 
Flip. It is such fun to play with him. 

Clem . Well, I will. {A hell rings.) 

Dotty. Oh ! dear ; there's that bell ! 

CURTAIN FALLS. 

Scene II. — A portion of tlie 'platform should he fitted up to repre- 
serd Dotty Dunning's play-room. The other part of the 
platform should he the room for cooking. If there sJwuld he 
a room hack of the 'platform^ it would he hetter to use that for 
a cook room. Betty, the cook, might he kneading hread on 
a kneading -hoard, placed on a harrel, mry near the doorway. 
Dotty' s playthings are scattered all ahout the play-room. 

Dotty enters the room. 
Dotty. Oh ! Betty, I am real glad you are making bread I 



SCHOOL *' EXHIBITIONS." ol 

You'll give me a piece of dougli, wont you ? that's a dear 
Betty ! 

Betty. Oh I don't bother me to-day, Dotty ; I'm in such a 
hurry. 

Dotty. I won't bother you a bit ; just give me a little piece. 

Betty. Well, you must ask your mother. 

Dotty. No, no, Betty, I don't want to. I am going to have 
a New Year's party, and I'm going to make the refreshments 
all my ownself. My teacher says little girls must learn to 
cook, and I should like to know how they ever can if their 
mothers and cooks wont let them. 

Betty. Bun along and ask your mother first. 

Dotty. No, Betty, I want it to be all a surprise. (Betty 
has been making biscuits. She now leaves the room and is gone 
some time. While she is gone, Dotty takes one of the biscuits, 
rolls it up in her hands and drops it on the flooi^ once or ticice. 
She picks it up and plays with it again. She lays it down when 
she hears Betty coming.) 

Enter Betty. 

Betty. Have you been handling that biscuit ? 

Dotty. Yes. Mayn't I have it, now it's so soiled ? 

Betty. Yes, but take the dirty thing right off my kneading- 
board. You must not touch my dough when I leave it. 

Dotty. I guess I will make some biscuits for my party. 
What shall I do for a kneading-board, Betty ? 

Betty. Oh ! I don't know; take almost anything. 

Dotty. I guess my slate will do first rate; but what can I 
cut out my biscuits with ? 

Betty. I don't know; take my brass thimble. 

Dotty. What can I bake my biscuits in ? 

Betty. Here is a pan. Now don't bother me any more. 
(Dotty gets the slate and thimble and sits down on the floor and 
cuts her biscuits. When she has finished she carries them into the 
other room and then returns.) 

Dotty. There, Betty, I have got my biscuits in the oven. 

Betty. I hope there is a good fire. It would be such a pity 
to have those biscuits spoil. 



32 SCHOOL " EXHIBITIONS. " 

Dotty. So it would. It is a great deal of work to have a 
party. (Betty is now making cake.) Now, Betty, I'm afraid I 
shan't have a very good party unless you give me some of that^ 
cake. Do, that's a dear Betty ! 

Betty. Do stop teasing. Dotty. {Dotty goes out and brings 
in a small round pan and a spoon. Slie Twlds up the pan to 
Betty.) 

Dotty. Just give me a little bit of cake in my pan You 
would be ashamed for me to have a party without any cake. 
(Betty puts a little of the cake in the pan.) 

Betty. Oh ! what a tease you are ! (Dotty stirs the cake 
with a spoon. There are some raisins on the table.) 

Dotty. Now, Betty, I want just eight raisins to put in my 
cake; one for each of us girls. 

Betty. Well, take the raisins; and now don't bother me 
any more. (Dotty stirs in the raisins.) 

Dotty. There, now, I guess my cake is ready to be baked. 
{She goes into the other room and pretends to put the cake into the 
oven.) Betty, can't you let me have some cheese ? 

Betty. No, we haven't a bit of chee e in the house. 

Dotty. Well, then I shall go right over to the store and buy 
some. I've got ten cents . Mother always has cheese when 
she has a party. 

Betty. You mustn't spend your money without asking your 
mother. 

Dotty. Oh ! yes I shall. Mother always lets me do just 
what I want to with my mone}^ {She takes her bonnet and 
lea'ves the room, but in two or three minutes sh£ is back again with 
the cheese in her hand.) Now I guess I must set my table. 
What shall I do for a tablecloth, Betty ? 

Betty. I don't know. You can do without a cloth. 

Dotty. I should think you would be ashamed of yourself, 
Betty. Just think of my having a party without a tablecloth! 
They'd think we were poor as mice ! (Dotty leaves the room 
and returns in a minute icith a sheets which she attempts to ar- 
range over an old table for a cloth. Then she gets her little tea- 
set and sets the table.) Ii's an awful job to have a party. 



SCHOOL ''EXHIBITIONS." 33 

Betty. Why, Dotty Dunning, where did you get that sheet? 

Dotty. I took it right off my bed. You needn't say one 
word, for it makes a very good tablecloth. 

Betty. Well, I never did see such a child in my life. 
(Dotty goes out and brings in her biscuits and cake and arranges 
all her food on the table.) 

Dotty. Now, Betty, just look at my table. It would be 
most perfect, if I only had some icing for my cake. Can't I 
have a little sugar ? 

Betty. Here, hold your hand, and you must not ask me for 
anything more. I don't know what your mother would say. 
(Dotty takes the sugar and sprinkles it on with Iter fingers^ and 
tlien places the cake on the table.) 

Dotty. Isn't that table just the beautifullest one you ever 
saw, Betty ? 

Betty. Yes, it will do very well. 

Dotty. Now I guess I'll put on ray good dress, for it's 
most time for my party to begin. 

CURTAIN FALLS. 

Scene III. — Eight little girls at play. 

Dotty. Now you've seen all my presents, and we are tired 
of play, I guess we'd better have our supper. Young ladies, 
please walk into the refreshment room. 

Clem. Why, Dotty, we haven't any gentlemen to walk to 
the refreshment room with. Let's play part of us was gentle- 
men. 

Dotty. So we can. Let's see. Minnie, Lottie, and Carrie 
may be the gentlemen, because they are the biggest. I guess, 
Clem, you had better be a gentleman, too. You can offer me 
your arm. (Clem ojfers Dotty her arm, -and the other gentlemen 
how low, offer their arms to the ladies, and they walk very slowly 
across the platform, taking mincing steps.) 

CUETAIN FALLS. 



84 SCHOOL *' EXHIBITIONS." 

Scene IV. — The room where Dotty has 'prepared her supper. 
The door, at the hack of the platform is thrown open and 
Dotty and Clem enter, followed hy the other girls. A scene 
of confudon meets their eyes. The litiU dog is tliere. He has 
pulled the tablecloth on to the floor and eaten up all the food. 

Dotty. Walk in, ladies and gentlemen. Why — where — 
what? {Tliere is a profound silence for a moment or two.) That 
wretched little dorg of 3^0 urs did it, Clem Manners I 

Clem. You invited him, anyway. 

Dotty. I supposed he knew enough to behave himself. 

Clem. 'Twasn't because he don't get enough to eat at home. 

Hattie. It's a retribution on you. Dotty Dunning ; you 
said you got up the supper without your mother's consent . 

Dotty. I'll tell you what it is, girls; I've got one of the for- 
givenest mothers you ever saw. I'm just going to tell her all 
about it, and I know she'll give us a real good supper. 

CURTAIN falls. 

Scene V. — Eight happy-looking girls sitting around the table eat- 
ing their supper. 

Hattie. Well, Dotty, I do think you have got a forgiving 
mother. What a beautiful supper this is ! 

Minnie. I don't mind very much if Flip did eat up your 
supper; I'd rather eat your mother's cooking than yours. 

Dotty. Seems to me you are not very polite for company. 

Lottie. We've had ever so much better time than if we had 
eaten in your play-room. 

Clem. I hope you'll excuse Flip, Dotty; he didn't know any 
better. 

Dotty. Oh ! that's all right. I think, maybe, it wa^ retfur- 
hution, as Hattie says. I've noticed that whenever you do 
things without your mother's permission there's generally ret- 
furhutiony or something else bad. 

cuhtain falls. 



SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS.'* 35 



UO. IV-TAKINa STOOK-A DIALOGTHL 

Scene I. — Mr. Brown seated at a table covered with books and 
papers. 

His nephew, Frank, enters. 

Frank. I wish you a happy New Year, uncle. 

Mr. Brown. Thank you, my boy. I wish you the same. 
The old year has really gone. 

Frank. Yes, uncle ; no one who heard the bells ringing so 
finely could have any doubt about that. I seems to me a 
pleasant custom to ring the old year out and the new year in. 

Mr. B. Are you glad to get rid of the old year, Frank ? 

Frank. Not particularly, uncle. Of course I like the new 
year, and hope it will be a very happy one. 

Mr. B. Has the old year been happy, Frank ? 

Frank. Pretty happy, uncle. It might have been better, 
but still I have had some good fun in it. It has been, on the 
whole, a jolly sort of a year. 

Mr. B. Has it been a good sort of a year, Frank ? Have 
you made visible and satisfactory improvement in it ? Have 
you filled it with noble thoughts and kind deeds ? Have you 
made the best use of its days ? Has this year really been a 
good one in these respects ? 

Prank. Yes, uncle, I think it has been a pretty good year. 

Mr. B. Perhaps you can hardly decide without a little more 
thought. You know at this time of the year all business men 
tahe stock. What does stock-taking mean ? 

Frank. It means that the men in business take account of 
all that they have, of money in the bank and articles in their 
warehouses, and see how much it all amounts to. Then 
against that they put all their debts, and so they are able to 
strike a balance. 

Mr. B. What is the use of stock-taking, Frank ? Do you 
think it is a waste of time ? 

Frank. No, sir; it must be a very useful way of spending 



30 SCHOOL ''EXHIBITIONS.'* 

time. The merchant may find that he is getting behind,— that 
his expenses are greater than his income. 

Mr. B. What would be the use of his knowing that ? 

Fkaxk. Of course he would be more careful. He would 
spend less and try to gain more; but, if he thought all the 
time that he was getting on well, he might be more extrava- 
gant, and then, perhaps, he would never be able to pay all his 

debts. 
Mr. B. You are right, Frank. You see stock-taking enables 

a man to know with certainty, whether the new year has been 

a prosperous one or not. Now, Frank, I want you to t^ike 

stock. 

Frank. Me, uncle ? I have no debts, and very little moLicy, 
so my stock-taking is soon done. 

Mr. B. This is what I mean, Frank— while I am gone. I 
wish you to take a slate, and put in one column all the good 
things you have done this year; then, in another column, i>ul 
down all the wrong things you have done. Add them up and 
subtract the smaller number from the greater, aid show me 
the balance. Then, my boy, take another slate, and put down 
the blessings you have had. God has been very kind to 30U 
every day. He has given you health, and food, and friends, 
and many other daily mercies. But I want you to think of 
special kindnesses which He has shown to you. 

Frank. Yes, I know, uncle That was one when I was in 
a train that met with an accident, and I was not hurt. That 
was another when I thought I should fail at my examination, 
and I asked God to help me, and then succeeded so well, that 
I was nearly at the top of the class. 

Mr. B. Well, put all such blessings down in a column. (Mr. 
Brown leaves the room and Frank takes up a slate.) 

Scene II. — Frank sits at the table, leaning his head upon his 
hand, and loolcing tlioroughly discouraged. On one slate 
tJiere are two columns, one much smaller than the other. The 
other slate is filled with columns of blessings. 

Enter Mr. Brown. 
Mr. B. Well, Frank, have you finished ? 



SCHOOL ''EXHIBITIONS." 37' 

Frank. Yes, uncle; I cannot think of any more. 

Mr. B. Are you sure ? 

Frank. Yes, sir. I have tried to remember as far back as 
possible, beginning with January and going on to December. 

Mr. B. And how do you stand ? 

Frank. Oh ! the balance is on the wrong side, uncle. 
(Frank holds up Ms slate which his uncle takes. ) 

Mr. B. The balance on the wrong side, Frank ? Do you 
mean to say that you have done more evil than good this year? 

Frank. Yes, uncle. 

Mr. B. But perhaps there is not much difference ? 

Frank. Yes, there is, uncle. The sum of one column is 
double that of the other. 

Mr. B . But perhaps you have forgotten some of the favor- 
able items. 

Frank. Very likely, uncle ; but it is also quite probable that 
I have forgotten some of the unfavorable ones, too. 

Mr. B. Well, what conclusion do you arrive at, Frank ? 

Frank. That the next year must be a great deal better than 
the last, or I shall have little hope of myself. 

Mr. B. Well, how about the blessings ? 

Frank. Oh ! uncle, the blessings are more than all the others 
put together ! 

Mr. B. Then you see how good God has been to you, and 
yet you have done so many wrong things, and so few right 
ones. You must have displeased Him many times, Frank. 

Frank. Yes, and oh ! uncle, I am so sorry, but I will try 
to make this new year much better than the last. I will com- 
mence at the very beginning, and try to keep right on, and 
then surely the balance will not be so great on the wrong side 
when next December comes. 

Mr. B. I hope not, Frank, but remember that you must ask 
God to help you, or you are certain to fail. 

Why those murmurs and repinings ? 

Who can alter what is done ? 
See the future brightly shining. 

There are goiils yet to be won. 



lis SCHOOL ** EXHIBITIONS.*' 

Grieving is at best a folly, 
Oftentimes it is a sin : 

Oh ! recall thy numerous mercies, 
And a song of praise begin. 

CURTAIN FALLS. 



NO. V -A NEW TEAE'S DEAMA.* 

Scene. — In tJie centre oftJie platform there should he a throne, 
behind which there should he a screen of evergreen, from be- 
hind which the characters should enter; or, if there are doors 
in the rear of the platform, they can he used for the entrance 
of the characters. Tlie Old Year, dressed in white, with 
long ichite hair and beard, should be asleep upon the throne. 
Two Fairies enter. Ihey should he very small girls. They 
can be dressed prettily in white, and, if desirable, they 
could have wings, butterfly shaped, made of green iarleton, 
draicn over a white wire frame. Two Speakers should be 
placed on the front of the platform, at either extremity. 

First Speaker. The Old Year, hoary with the snows of 
age, exhausted with the labors of his life, tottering with his 
weight of days, stands trembling upon the brink of the grave. 
The closing hours of his life are waning. The last sunset has 
thrown its golden beams over the white robe of tlie departing 
monarch. The stars have come out on the tinted field of night 
to keep their vigils with him, and we, too, are *' watching the 
Old Year out and New Year in,"t 

* If teachers desire this drama in the short form in which it was origin- 
ally written, I would advise them to purchase No. 5, of *' De Witt's Dime 
School Dialogues." Almost any teacher will find this book an excellent 
one for exhibitions. The publisher has kindly allowed me to make 
several selections from this book, which I here take pleasure in recom- 
mending. 1 do this without the least solicitation. This drama was 
written by Mrs. M. B. C Slade. 

t The above, and a few other lines in this drama, have been taken, by 
permission, from "The Elocutionist's Annual," No. 2. It has been 
changed somewhat from the ori^ inal. 



SCHOOL * ' EXHIBITIONS. " ^ 

Two Fairies enter. 
First Fairy. 
Who have we here ? 'Tis strange, yet true ! I hardly can be- 
lieve 
The Old Year is fast asleep upon glad New Yearns Eve. 

Second Fairy. 
I'll rouse the sleepy fellow, if I can reach his ear. 
Wake up ! wake up ! 'Tis New Year's Eve, and he will soon 

be here ! 
The Old Year awakes and makes ready to descend from the 

fhrone. 
Old Year. 
Ah ! yes, I must be going ; my last swift moments fly. 
The old pass out, the new come in, the changes hurry by. 
My work is done ; with willing steps I peaceful pass away, 
In hope that I have blessed and served Earth's children in my 

stay; 
In hope that I have nearer brought the time when strife shall 

cease, 
And angels in the air again shall sing the song of peace. 
I wish that I could hear the song before I pass away, 
The echo of the carol sweet I heard on Christmas day. 
Voices in the rear of the stage should sing mry plainly the following 
verse. The music will be found on page 10. 
Christ is born, the Great Anointed ; 
Heaven and earth his praises sing ! 
O, receive whom God appointed. 
For your prophet, priest, and king. 
Old Year. 
And now I go ; as on the ear those last faint echoes swell, 
I hear the New Year's coming chimes, the Old Year's passing 

bell. 
{To First Fairy) Give New Year this, my golden crown; 

{To Second Fairy.) my royal sceptre bright. 
And and lead him to the throne I leave. Good-bye, good will, 
goodnight ! 



40 SCHOOL " EXHIBITIONS." 

Old Year passes slowly off the stage. As he crosses tJie stage the 
Speaker nearest Mm, watching him closely, repeats the fol- 
lowing lines : 

His trembling form is bowed and bent, 

His ebbing strength is almost spent ; 

He walks with feeble steps and slow, 

And his hair is as white as the wintry snow 

Only twelve fleeting months before. 
Rosy and bale, he stood at our door; 
Firm was his step and bright his eye. 
As with song and jest he hurried by. 

Twelve circling months of light and shade. 
Their mingled woe o'er our pathway laid — 
An added year of joy and pain, 
Never to dawn or fade again. 

If there is a room at the rear of the stage, Old Year should enter 
it, and, apparently, lie down upon a couch, while tlie same 
Speaker sJiould approach the door and watch his dying 
breath. Meanwhils, still facing the audience, he should recite 
the following lines : 

Failing fast is the Old Year's breath, 

Calmly he lies on his couch of death; 

But late in the flush of his strength and pride, 

Now helpless and wan — O, woe betide 1 

Hark I to the night-winds sighing low ; 
List ! to the church-bells clanging slow: 
The light fades out of his sunken eye, 
To our tender words comes no reply. 

He has gone to join the buried hours; 
We will strew his bier with the fading flowers 
We have gleaned from Memory's sunlit track, 
But we cannot call the Old Year back ! 

Several voices in the room where the Old Year lies, should now 
softly sing the following: 



SCHOOL ''EXHIBITIONS." 



41 



i 



Music from the "Musical Class Book," published in 1846. 



:t^: 



h -g^- 



^p^-: 



Fare-well ! Fare-well ! thou d}^ - ing year, 



-4 









:?=: 



I 
Thy morn was mild, thine eve - iiing clear, 



rziti 



1A L 



I- 

— #- 



J_ 






I 



i 



Go, seek e - ter - nal slum - 



ber. 



First Speaker. In silence and sadness we bury the Old 
Year in the sepulchre of the ages. There will he sleep in 
dreamless slumber — ^but the lessons the Old Year taught will 
remain. {The following lines should then be repeated^ at some dis- 
tance. As they are recitedy a merry peal of hells should take the 
place of the tolling hell. The sound of the hells could he omitted if 

necessary.) 

Ring out the old, ring in the new, 

Ring happy bells across the snow. 
Second Speaker ijooking hack towards the rear door). 
Brave and strong, 
Bright as Phoenix, has the young New Year, 
Out of the ashes of the old, leaped forth 
To rule the world in triumph. 

All should then join in singing the welcome to the New Year. 

Music from " The Oriola." 



=fe^-r-?-^— ^- 


~i — r&^ "3 3~~ 


—tri~^-- 


:i^^^-if=^-:S— S- 


t^f-i—i- 


-j-j 



Come and welcome, come and welcome, come and 



lN„ 

^ — 

— 


i 


~5- 




— ^- 
~# — 


— «— 

9 




— ^ r N- 





wel-come, wel-come, wel-come, wel-come, Come and 



42 


SCHOOL ''EXHIBITIONS." 

1 1 N 1 






-' m 


^ . ...__ r _ J 


« ^.. . 




i 5 1* m • 9 


J ^ 


w 


, 


L '^ • ^ \ 9 9*9 


^ p 


9 






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wel- 


come the New Year, the 


1 

hap - py 


New 


Year! 



i 



During the singing, New Y^ear enters gayly. The Fairies go 

to meet him, hearing the crown and the sceptre. 

New Year. 

What bright new scene is this, and who is here ? 

First Fairy {leading New Year to the throne). 

This is thine earthly throne, O glad New Year. 

New Year. 
And who is he, just now so sadly gone ? 

First Fairy {croicning the New Year). 
The gray Old Year; he left to thee this crown. 

New Year. 
What hast thou in thy hand, sweet fairy, tell ? 

Second Fairy {presenting the sceptre). 
This is thy sceptre ; wisely rule and well. 

New Year. 
A throne, a crown, a sceptre ; and are ye 
All of the subjects that belong to me ? 

Fairies {in concert). 
Ah ! no ! here haste a glad and merry throng, 
Four happy seasons come with laugh and song. 

Some one just outside of the door through which the seasons are to 
enter y should then sing the following song. When the singing 
is nearly finished, Spring should enter. In the dress of the 
seasons and the months tliere is a considerahle chance for ths 
display of taste, but I know it is usually convenient for chil- 
dren to dress quite plainly. Upon the subject of dress I shall 
only make suggestions. It looks very icell if the Fall and 
Winter months are represented by boys, but the dress will look 
bstter if tliey are girls. I think they look well if all dressed in 
whits. The dresses for Spring, Summer and their months 
might all be trimmed with flowers. Wreaths for their head» 



SCHOOL "exhibitions." 43 

hok well. July, however, might he dressed as the Goddess of 
Liberty, or in red, white and blue. She might carry a flag. 
For Autumn and her months, it is ury pretty to have the 
dresses trimmed with, and the wreaths made of autumn leaves, 
December, and perhaps the other Winter months, might 
have their dresses trimmed with holly, evergreen^ etc., with 
wreaths for their heads. The months, and, if thought desir- 
able, the seasons, should bring some gift for the New Year 
in their hands. These gifts are often suggested in the poetry. 
The shields that are to be worn on the front of the dresses 
can be cut in almost any pretty form, of very nice pasteboard. 
They shoidd be quite large, so that the names of the seasons 
and the months can be painted on iliem very plainly. For 
Spring and her months, light green, like the color of new 
leaves, is very pretty. Tlie names should be painted in green, 
the shields should be bound with green, and they should be con- 
fined around the neck with green ribbon. For Autumn and 
her months a reddish-brown seems very appropriate. Pink 
or red might possibly be used for Summer and her months, 
and perhaps gray for Winter and her months. Some 
colors should be avoided. Light blue is very pretty, but in 
the evening, it can hardly be told from light green. Dark 
blue, dark green and some shq^des of brown, look like black in 
tlie evening. 

Words and Music from " The School Harp," published in 1855. 

:=fc=i=!- li ~ ~~=::z|s — ^ — ^, 




E^EEE^-^ 



V—^ ^— 

Spring! spring! beautiful spring ! Hitherward coin-eth like 



" — T" 


i^— 






T N— 


fs '■ 


— ^— 


— ^ — 






i I ' K ■- 1 ■ 








c 


l' 


* 






f 


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J 


_-.•._ 


-L \ 


r 




^ 


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V 



hope on tlie wing, Pleas - ant 




streamlet and flood, Raisetb a cbo-rus of joy in the wood; 



44 



SCHOOL ''EXHIBITIONS.' 





— K 


K-T N \ 1 


m ^ 


J d 




* it W J 




S ' 


f 4 


r ^ .— 1 


t— P — 5- 

Touchelh 


the bud and 


\ 'J \i 1 


it bursts in - to bloom, 


m a 


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fi 


f # 




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i lV 




t r * ^-. - 


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Bid - deth 


the beau - ti - ful rise from the tomb; 


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f • i 


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1 i 1 r 


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Blessetli the heart hi 


:e a heavenly thing. Spring! spring ! 

J), c. 


"" ». N 


^ _' 


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k. n N i T 


- -"N ■■-■!■ J. ' ' . 


:^-— f-— 


S * Sir » • i 


1 9 ^M 


* • 


■ ' ff 




* r ■ 



beau-ti - ful spring ! spring ! spring ! beau-ti - ful spring ! 

Enter Speing. 
First Fairy {presenting Spring). 
This, roj^al New Year, is the merry Spring. 
Spring (bowing low.) I am Spring. They call me beautiful 
Spring. My step is light and my voice is glad. I love all that 
is young; I cheer all that is old. I call sweet flowers to light 
among the gray old rocks, and make the green leaves to 
tremble in their loveliness, among ancient ruins. I bring not 
only soft, light, fresh winds, green leaves, and fair flowers 
with me, but young birds in their nests, and young lambs to 
play in the meadows. Little flshes dart about in the brooks, 
too, and frogs sing in the marshes. I come like Hope to the 
people. They hear my voice, and lay the seed in the ground, 
and trust it to the dew and the sunshine, the rain and the 
smile of God. I am a miracle worker on earth, and a type of 
the fadeless land toward which mortals journey. The Father 
above, who guides the young birds back to their last year's 
haunts, careth too for me, and it is Spring. Lights and shad- 
ows fell on the way of the redbreast as he journeyed north- 
ward, but he hoped and trusted; he was true as Spring, and 
Spring is as true as God. I am crowned with flowers; I am 



SCHOOL ''exhibitions." 



45 



laden with them; I am joyous and fair; I am a being of light, 
and melody, and fragrance. I am the beautifier of nature, the 
beloved of man, a visible promise of Paradise. In heaven only 
may I tarry. Here I come but to depart. Soon I must away, 
to make room for my lovely sister, the Summer; but forget 
me not. I am Spring, beautiful Spring. 

March, April and May enter y and tJie Second Fairy advances 

to meet them. 

Second Fairy {conducting March, April and May). 
Make way 1 make way I 
Here come March, April, May. 

TJiey take their places hy the side of Spring. 
Spring. 
These are the children of the Spring; 
Glad service unto you they bring. 

The person who sang when Spring entered^ should now sing while 
Summer enters. 

From the ** Boston Melodeon." 




The Summer days are coming, The blossoms deck each 

-N *- -i:— # s 



bough, The bees are gai - ly humming, And the 



I — l^- 

1 — 


-N 


— N- 


__^ — :j- 




-^l^- 







— i^ — 






—0 — 


' =i 


9 


zA^. 


—^— 


— ^-- 


^ - 



birds are sing-ing now. We have bad our May - day 



I K— 


^ P 




jm 


-:^—:^- 


=J-^^-5E: 


J ■ ' ■■ ^ 


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a ' ti 


9 


d L> 






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^ 


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1^ ^ 



garlands, We have crown'd our May^day Queen, With A 
I 



46 



BCHOOli "EXHIBITIOKS." 






cor 



- nal of ro - ses, Set in leaves of brightest. 






__i^- 



Ti 



.\/-..U 



green, but lier reign is near - ly o - ver, Tlie 

— ^ — ^. , __^ _ h,- 



Spriug is on the wane, O haste the gen - tie 



: f ^ * . 




"11 


:^_p 5 ^_: 


[ i i-- ^l i,. 


-II 



Sum-mer, To our pleas-ant land a - gain. 

First Fairy (presenting Summer). This is sweet Summer- 
time, so fair, so bright. 

Summer (bowing low). I am Summer, gay and bright and 
gleesome. "Laughing Summer" I am called. I have the 
brightest sunshine, the thickest canopy of leaves, the stillest, 
warmest air about me, and the bluest sky above me. I come 
to the lands of the iN'orth like a dream of tropical beauty. I 
call the dwellers of the city out into the forest haunts. I fill 
their souls with my glory. Young maidens are ever garlanded 
with flowers in my reign ; and I hear the children's laughter 
ringing out on the air that is so sweet, wandering over orch- 
ards bright with clover blossoms, and meadows sweet with 
new -mown hay. ''Happy Summer" I am called. I fill the 
children's hands with strawberries. I load the trees with 
cherries for shouting boys to shake down into the aprons of 
bright-eyed little girls. In my smile the apples grow rosy and 
mellow, and the farmer's face is glad as he gathers the golden 
pears. It is when my steps are abroad in the land that 
the poet weaves his brightest visions, and the patriot's devotion 
is truest. Yes, my name is Summer, the radiant and the 
happy. 






f?CHOOL ''EXHIBITIONS.' 47 

Enter June, July and August. 

Second Fairy {conducting June, July and August). 
Make room ! room ! in glorious prime 
Come the daughters of fair Summertime. 

Summer {bowing loic). 
My daughters three at thy feet shall bow, 
And offer thee royal service now. 

The person who sang when Spring and Summer entered^ should 
now sing the following as Autumn enters. If it should be 
thought best to have boys, instead of girls ^ to represent ths 
Autumn and Winter seasons and months, it will be necessary 
to frequently cliange the pronouns in the following pages. 



Words and Music from *' The Musical Class Book," pub. in 1846. 




Hur-rah for brown Autumn, hur- rah! hurrah ! She 



tA^ES^t 



:1 



hastened o'er val - ley and plain. 



And the 



# — 


^ 

—]/— 


— 0— 


■ 5 


— — 
— 1^— ^ 


\--%' ■ 


— P— 





—0— 



with - er - ina; wind 



her shout of wur, And 









ma - ny a - las ! are the slain. She has wreath'dliera 



:_it5 — >, — N-F=^ — K— i=^-^-F-s — -m — ^^^^^-^ — 



robe from the crimson leaves, and a crown from the i - vy 



i^lll^ 



ly— d 



In her hand she hold • eth 



the 



48 SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS.' 



iail 



f^ K m 



=* — 0- 

rud - dy fruit; She*sthe Thanksgiving sea-son, I ween. 

Enter Autumn. 

First Fairy {presenting Autumn). 
This is the brown-cheeked Autumn now I bring. 
Autumn (bowing low), I am Autumn. Spring promised and 
Summer brought, but I finish. They call me mellow Autumn, 
and I too am loved. When barns and cellars are full all hearts 
are happy The blossoms of Spring were fair, and the roses 
of Summer bright- but my wild flowers are of gold and pur- 
ple and scarlet, royal and radiant. I have strewn the wood 
paths with dry leaves, and I have warned the dear birds that 
it is time to be gone southward. Tlie chatter of squirrels over 
their hoarded treasures is heard in the woods, the voices that 
go up from the streams are pleasant, the grasshopper's song is 
ended, and the bee hums near its hive. The girls have 
gathered the grapes, and the boys the nuts; the plough is trac- 
ing the furrow^s over the brown fields, and tlie farmer's table 
is graced by bread from his land and honey from his hives. 
Oh ! what is like rich, ripe mellow Autumn, in a land that 
God has blessed among the nations — a land whose starry ban- 
ner floats over it, whose people are free ? Yes, I am Autumn. 

September, October and November enter. 

Second Fairy {conducting September, Ooto:6E3R cind Novem- 
ber). 
Another stately three are here, 
We lead them to thee, bright New Year. 

Autumn. 
My noble daughters, New Year; see 
What treasures they will offer thee. 

The person iclio sang when Spring, Summer and Autumn erir 
Uredf should now sing the following a$ Winter enters. 



SCHOOL ''exhibitions.' 



49 



"Words and Music from "The Musical Class Book," pub. In 184G. 


y 9 




1 N 




A* '^ 


_^ h ^ 


1 N 


i J tf 


frTi ^d IS 




J * 1 


J d» ^ 


V*^ U 4 r' 


i _i J ' 


M 


# » 


^ -J- 


^ ^ ^ 







Old 


Win - ter! \u 


3 com - eth, 


A.nd veil - eth 

1 h fc. 


the 




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1 1 ^ 


1 '1 


M H 0^ 


i 1 


■ —0 




J •J J 


1 "^ 1 " 


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\ 1 ; ' 


€ ^ 


-.-^-1 


--i- ^ ■ 




1 b U 





ground, And des - o - late frowneth on na-ture around, 



Ei=fz:ti£z=t 



But decks the bright tire - side With song and with 



:_± 


i 


->,—«_,. 






- 1 J 


-->,- 


-- s- 


-^ id 







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-.-^- 


_^_ 


—0- 


.* 




—9— 


-0 — b- 


—0- 

— j 


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M 



piay Old Winter, I love thee ! Pray lengthen thy stay. 

iE^;2^r Winter. 

b'^iRsr Fairy {-presenting Winter). 
This IS brave Winter, clad in snowy white. 
W INTER {Oowiufj low) I am Winter. I bring the snow, and 
the boys shout hurrali ! the girls clap their hands, rosy with 
the cold and say ' Ha 1 ha ! " I trace pictures of wondrous 
beau I y on the window panes, and bridge rivers, and hang 
peaiis OG the pine trees. I will set my winds to shouting, and 
quicken everybody's steps. My snow flakes will whirl, the 
snow birds will flutter by, and my clouds will hurry along. 
It IS I ihaf have the Christmas trees to decorate my ha^ls, and 
\Wi' New Year s fire to blaze on my hearth ; and then the 
utile cricket chirrups there, while the turkey roasts, 
and the apples and nuts are heaped in the basket. 
Come boys get your skates now, and hurry for the sport ! 
The gins may come along too. and listen to the sleigh 
l)fiis I wliat fuQ ! hurrah 1 Tobeupsetin the snow-drifts, ah, 
mat i? merry \ Yes. i am Winter, and most welcome to all, 
no thanks to fair young Spring, bright Summer and mild 
Autumn to be cheerful, bui lor winter to come with such 



50 SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS." 

grace and pleasantry, that all are glad to see him — that is fine! 

Winter, Wmter. happy is the country that rejoices in thee ! 
The merriest games are played in my long evenings, the 
sweetest songs are sung then, and the best stories told. Yes, 

1 am Winter, the last but not least loved of all the seasons, 

December, January and February enter. 

Second Fairy (conducting December, January and Feb- 
ruary). 
Make room for these to enter in the train , 
These last bright links that make the perfect chain. 

Tlie seasonfi and the months form a semi-circle m front of the New 
Year's throne. The four seasons now step more directly in 
front of the throne, how, and recite the following lines in eon- 
cert. At the close^ tJiey eoxh present to New Year some gift 
appropriate to tJie season. They then return to tlieir pl<ices, 

-Seasons. 
Oh 1 beautiful New Year, 

Thy royal servants, we, 
Each m her own glad sphere, 

Shall minister to thee. 
As we our gifts bestow. 

Our varied treasures rare. 
Thy stores shall overflow, 

Oh ! New Year, bright and fair. 
And each of us has daughters three, 
Who joyfully shall wait on thee. 

The seasons now return to their places and both seasons and 
months take afew steps to the left, while February, Janu- 
ary ancf Winter, passing behind the throne, take their places 
before Spring and her months, but December should re- 
mam where she is, on the other side of the throne, a little 
apart from Autumn and her months. The months should 
then each speak m turn, and at the close of every speech some 
appropriate gift should be presented, with a low bow, to New 
Year. 



school ** exhibitions." 51 

January. 
'Tis I the honor have, oh ! bright New Year, 
To open wide the door when thou art here ; 
The fair young months that round thee gayly speed, 
Mine is the glory and the joy to lead. 

February. 
And I, my gladdest service is to say, 
With me the reign of storms shall pass away ; 
The richest .gift I offer is to bring 
Close in my train the ever welcome Spring. 

March. 
I am a wild young maiden. 

And Winter's ways I follow ; 
With chill, rough winds, snow-laden, 

I sweep o'er hill and hollow. 

April. 
And when, with a rousing rally, 

Her voice has wakened the flowers, 
I, over the hill and valley, 

Will woo them with gentle showers. 

May. 
And I, oh ! I'll tenderly bring them — 

The buds and the blossoms dear. 
And over the wide world fling them, 

To gladden the bright New Year. 

June. 
Roses red and hawthorn white, 

Blue of heaven and gold of sea; 
Songs of birds, green fields so bright — 

Perfect days — June offers thee. 

July. 
I the glorious days will bring. 
When the freedom bells shall ring; 
Brighter green shall deck the hills 
Deeper blue the sky and rills. 



52 school ''exhibitions." 

August. 
I will spread o'er field and plain 
Billowy fields of golden grain; 
Maidens fair my song shall sing, 
As the harvest home they bring. 

September. 
I'll bring for thee my clusters of the vine, 
And golden corn and glowing fruits of mine. 

October. 
I'll bring thee brown nuts from the wind-toss'd bough. 
And bright-hued forest leaves to deck thy brow. 

November. 
My cheery days shall crown thy closing prime 
With the glad season of Thanksgiving time. 

December. 
Stern, cold, and hard I seem, no flowers I bring, 
Nor birds, their sweet, soft summer songs to sing; 
But one glad day my garlands green adorn — 
The Christmas day and the glad Christmas morn. 

The following song might then he sung, edch month singing the 
part which refers to herself. 



Words and Music from * 


'The School Harp/' pubUshed 

IS IS 


I in 1865. 


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Jan - u - a - ry briugs the snow, Makes our 


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tin - gers glow. Feb - ru - a - ry brings the 


rain. 

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Thaws the fro - zen lake a - gain, March brings breez-es 



SCHOOL * ' EXHIBITIONS. " 



53 



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A - pril brings the primrose sweet, Scatters daisies at onr feet. 
2. May brings flocks of pretty lambs, 
Skipping by their fleecy dams ; 
June brings tulips, lilies, roses, 
Fills the children's hands with posies; 
Hot July brings cooling showers, 
Apricots and gilliflowers; 
August brings the sheaves of corn, 
Then the harvest home is borne. 
8. Warm September brings the fruit. 
Sportsmen then begin to shoot ; 
Fresh October brings the pheasant, 
Then to gather nuts 'tis pleasant ; 
Dull November brings the blast, 
Then the leaves are whirling fast; 
Chill December brings the sleet, 
Blazing fire and Christmas treat. 
All. 
And here around New Year's throne we happy subjects meet ; 

New Year. 
With thanks for loyal service, now my subjects dear I greet. 

All. 
As in our New Year's fresh young life, with joy and song be- 
gun. 

New Year. 
So will we seek to bless the earth, until our course is run. 

All. 
And as we onward, onward haste and circle round the sphere. 

New Year. 
May light, and love, and joy, and peace descend and bless us 
herCi 

curtain falls. 



64 SCHOOL ''exhibitions.' 



NO. VL-THE QUESTION 01 THE TEAE'S LAST ITIGHT. 

Once again our sad Earth, swinging 
Tireless on her axis true, 

Hath pursued her olden journey- 
Through the pathless wastes of blue; 

In among the great worlds, wheeling 
Eound the mighty central light, 

Through the starry wildernesses, 
Who hath guided her aright ? 

Tis the same Earth her Creator 

Blessed amid her Eden bowers. 
When His smiles brought heaven about her, 

When her love yearned forth in flowers ; 
Ere her face, august in beauty. 

Human sin and strife had marred, 
Ere her sweet life death had tainted. 

Ere her breast with graves was scarred. 

He who set the lordly planets 

Blazing through the dusky even, 
Who that orb of fire unwasting 

Balanced in the kindling heaven, 
Fount of day forever welling 

Tides of life and waves of light, 
For the thirsty worlds outflowing, 

Breaking on far shores of night; 
He hath left her not unheeded. 

Darkened with the primal curse. 
Lone and helpless, blindly floating 

In His awful universe; 
For His smile paternal breaketh 

Ever through the darkness cold — 
Still his care is round about her, 

And He loves her as of old. 



SCHOOL ' ' EXHIBITIONS. '* 



55 



He in all her motions worketh, 

Ruleth all her sin and strife, 
From the fearful chaos slowly • 

Rounds the perfect, full-orbed life ; 
In the shock of moi tal battle. 

Cruel murder, made sublime. 
Pride and. hate, and iVist of conquest, 

Tyranny's Titanic crin>e; 
In the triumph of oppression. 

And in Freedom's vain defence; « 

In the woeful waste of famine, ' 

And the scourge of pestilence; 
In all woes and wrongs around us. 

In all strife of man with man; 
In all discords that confound us 

Runs His great harmonious plan; 
Overruling evil chances^ 

For His purposes divine — 
Mortal guilt and mortal sorrow 

Bending to His ends beni;^n. 

Patient in His calm eternal, 

Sees He sad Humanity, 
Bound and wounded, through the darkness, 

Sending up her ceaseless cry 1 
For his eyes outwatch the ages, 

To behold the good in store. 
Striking through lier little night-time 

To the morn that lies before. 



Not His ways and will to question ^ 

Look we on this night of nights. 
Still and vast, with solemn splendors 

Flashing from the starry heights; 
Gone, forever and forever. 

Old year seasons, snows and showers. 
Grief and gladness, loss and triumph; 

But the fresh New Year is ours I 



56 



SCHOOL " EXHIBITIONS. 

Pure }md bright it lies before tis, 
Like the snowy moor, untrod — 

Trampled, soiled with evil passions, 
Shall we give it back to God ? 



NO. Vn-TEE NEW TEAE'S BENEDICTION. I 

** The warp of life moves fast, and every thread 
That makes the woof up, has. its specks of red; 
But when the spool is finished, I shall see 
The web reeled off, God's work complete in me." 

Beginning the new stage of our life-work with the year 18 — , 
how sweet the Master's words, '*Lo I am with you always, 
even to the end." Yes, **all days.'* When joy is our guest 
and prosperity gladdens our heart; when sorrow comes with 
sable robos and we sit by lonely fireside, holding an emptied 
cup ; in all days of gladness and of gloom. He is with us. 
The weaver sits behind the pattern, and works amid a tangle 
of thread and a smooch of color, as viewed by unpracticed 
eyes — so He who is making all things work together for our 
good, perplexes us by His dealings only to make more glorious 
the completed design. 

Trust fully, then, we repeat, the New Year's Benediction, 
and go forward, *' not knowing" but assured that He is with 
us who knows all things and who never will leave nor forsake 
us. 



CONOLUSION.-A NEW YEAE'S SONG. 

Words and Music from " The Oriola." 




Come, friends, now and join iu our fea -ti- vul son;;, 



SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS." 



57 



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The new year has come and the old year has gone; 

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We'll join our glad vol - ces 



one hymn of praise, 





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To God who has kept us and lengthened our days. 



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Happy New Year to all, Hap-py New Year to 



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all! Happy New Year.Happy New Year, Happy New Year to all 1 

Our Father in Heaven, we lift up. to thee 

Our voice of thanksgiving, our glad jubilee; 

Oh 1 bless us and guide us, dear Saviour, we pray, 

That from thy blest precepts we never may stray. 

Happy New Year to all, Happy New Y'^ear to all ! 

Happy New Year, Happy New Year, Happy New Year to all. 



08 BCHOOL " EXHIBITIONS. " 



AN EXHIBITION OP TABLEAUX. 



Experience has proved, at least to the entire satisfaction of 
the writer, that every tableau should be shovrn for a very 
much longer time than is usual. No person who really loves 
a good picture, is satisfied with such a glance as can be ob- 
tained in one or two minutes. It seems almost a self-evident 
truth that an audience is not fully satisfied with a good tableau, 
if shown for so short a time. A good description adds a new 
charm to many a picture. Try it and see if it is not so with 
tableaux. 

The objection may be raised that children, and even older 
people, cannot remain perfectly quiet for any great length of 
time. The writer has often proved this to be a mistake. Some 
children, and even a few older people, of nervous tempera- 
ment, cannot be used for forming tableaux, but the writer has 
found that even very young children can often keep as motion- 
less as is necessary, for quite a long time, apparently without 
the slightest inconvenience. 



NO. I-WHITTIEE'S BAEEPOOT BOY. 

Those who have the painting, or Prang's chromo, of 
** Whittier's Barefoot Boy," will do well to follow it as nearly 
a3 possible. It is a very easy picture to represent, even if one 
has no such guide. A small boy with dark complexion and 
laughing face should be selected for this picture. Of course 
he must be dressed like a country boy, with bare feet, his 
trousers rolled over slightly, and on his head a straw hat with 
the brim considerably torn. This picture should be announced 
as ** Whittier's Barefoot Boy," and when the curtain rises, the 



SCHOOL ** EXHIBITIONS." 6© 

person who is to show the tableaux should describe this one 
by reciting the following verses. The tableau should be 
shown, if possible, all the time the poetry is being recited. It 
looks well to have the boy stand behind a large picture frame, 
but this is not necessary. 

Blessings on thee, little man, 
Barefoot boy with cheeks of tan ! 
With thy turned-up pantaloons, 
And thy merry whistled tunes — 
With thy red lips redder still, 
Kissed by strawberries on the hill — 
With the sunshine of thy face. 
Through the torn brim's jaunty grace; 
From my heart I give thee joy; 
Blessings on thee, barefoot boy I 

Cheer 'ly, then, my little man; 
Live and laugh as boyhood can. 
Though the flinty slopes be hard, 
Stubbles spread the new -mown sward. 
Every morn shall lead thee through 
Fresh baptisms of the dew; 
Every evening from thy feet 
Shall the cool winds kiss the heat. 
And too scon those feet shall hide 
In the prison cells of pride; 
Lose the freedom of the sod. 
Like a colt for work be shod, 
Made to tread the mill of toil. 
Up and down in ceaseless moil — 
Happy if they sink not in 
Quick and treacherous sands of sin. 
Ab ! that thou could'st know thy joy 
Ere it pass, my barefoot boy I 



60 BCHOOL ** EXHIBITIONS.* 



HO. n -OUEIOSITT. 

A portion of the stage must be fitted up to represent a 
country post-office. In a conspicuous place should be posted 
a placard on which might be printed " Medford Post-office," 
or anything of the kind. An empty mail-bag lies on the floor 
and a pile of letters and papers are on a table. The postmaster 
is deliberately reading a postal card, his wife is holding up a 
letter to the light in such a way as to enable her to read the 
writing inside, and a half -grown boy is endeavoring to see the 
paper which he holds in his hand, enclosed in an envelope. 
Two laughing faces are peering through a half -open door, as 
it delighted at their discovery. On the other part of the plat- 
form a little girl might stand, who holds something very care- 
fully concealed in her apron, wLile a much younger child is 
pulling at the older one's dress, as if endeavoring to see the 
treasure. A young boy might be seated near, holding up 
some kind of a toy as if endeavoring to ascertain what makes 
the noise. After this tableau has been announced, and the 
curtain rises, the person who is to describe it should recite the 
following lines. As this tableau is rather difficult , it might 
be shown twice, during the first and last part of the recitation. 

It came from heaven — its power archangels knew. 
When this fair globe first rounded to their view. 
It reigned in Eden — when that man first woke. 
Its kindling influence from his eyeballs spoke. 
It reigned in Eden — in that heavy hour 
When the arch-tempter sought our mother's bower. 
It came from heaven — it reigned in Eden's shades — 
It roves on earth, and every walk invades: 
Childood and age alike its influence own; 
It haunts the beggar's nook, the monarch's throne; 
Hangs o'er the cradle, leans above the bier. 
Gazed on old Babel's tower, and lingers here. 
To all that's lofty, all that's low, it turns; 
With terror curdles, and with rapture burns; 



I 



SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS." 6^ ' 

Now feels a seraph's throb, now less than man's ; 

A reptile tortures and a planet scans ; 

Now idly joins in life's poor, passing jars, 

Now shakes creation off, and soars beyond the stars. 

'Tis Curiosity — who hath not felt 

Its spririt, and before its altar knelt ? — C. Sprague. 



NO. ni.-WOMEFS VOEE lU OLDEN TIMES. 



This tableau is particularly recommended, as the writer has 
observed that wherever used it has always given great satis- 
faction. It is difficult, however, to obtain the necessary 
machines, and also persons who know how to use them. Yet 
they can be found more easily than one would suppose, espe- 
cially in the country towns and villages. There are many old 
people still living who can use them very well, and who will 
gladly give others the necessary information. It is not an ab- 
solute necessity for those taking part in this tableau to become 
skillful performers on these machines, although, of course, it 
is desirable. 

On the stage should be arranged a linen wheel, woolen 
wheel, quill wheel and swift, reel, skarn, cards, hatchel, or 
as many such old-fashioned machines as can be collected ; 
then there should be women, dressed in the costumes of one 
hundred years ago, who should be industriously working 
these machines. These costumes can be very easily obtained. 
A dress with a very plain skirt, a handkerchief around the 
shoulders, crossing in front, a white cap with a wide border, 
will be all that will be absolutely necessary. A high checked 
apron is desirable for a part of the women, a few of whom 
should wear glasses. 

It will be better not to describe this tableau in the usual 
manner, but after is has been announced and the curtain is 
raised, one or two persons at the right or left of the tableau 
should sing the following song. No one should be selected 



I 



62 SCHOOL ''EXTHIBITIONS." 

for this tableau who cannot sit motionless through all the 
singing. • 

This is far more pleasing if used as a ** moving tableau," 
although it will seem much less like a picture. If used thus, 
when the curtain rises all the women begin their work, and 
one or all sing the song. The sound of so many machines 
together with the song gives a fine effect. 



/ 


Music from the "Juvenile Singing School," published in 1844. 


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Our oth - er Mends have told you bow our 



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father's work'd and fought, And we have come to 



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sliow you now, The work our moth - ers wrought, One 



: ^ =? It— --x-q — ->, Hs -^ ^= 



huu - dred years a 



go, my friends, One 



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moth - ers wrought. One bun - dred years a - go. 

3. They pulled the flax, and when decayed 
They hatchcled it lust so ; 
They washed the wool, the rolls they made, 
As we are making now. 



SCHOOL ''EXHIBITIONS." 63 

One hundred years ago, my friends, 

One hundred years ago, 
They carded wool and hatcheled flax, 

One hundred years ago. 

3. From morn till night they spun the wool 

Upon just such a wheel ; 
And when the spindle it was full, 

They wound it on a reel. 
One hundred years ago, my friends, 

One hundred years ago. 
They spun and wove and made their cloth, 

One hundred years ago. 



m IV -THE EED MAN. 

This makes quite a pretty picture. Kemove the furniture 
from the stage so far as possible, and cover the carpet with 
something to represent the ground. Have several cedars, or 
other trees, fixed into standards. They should be as tall as 
the room will allow. Place them near the centre of the stage, 
and between them erect a wigwam. This can easily be done 
by the use of one or two buffalo robes. Near the wigwam, 
but not in front of it, should stand an Indian. 

Spanish brown, mixed with olive oil, or with water, may be 
used to stain the face and hands of a proper hue to represent 
an Indian ; but a better thing for the purpose is the prepared 
paint called "Mongolian," used by theatrical performers in 
"making up" for the stage, which may be had for a trifle. 
After the application of the "Mongolian" various devices 
should be painted on the face with rouge and black (burnt 
cork). These paints* will wash off easily, using tepid water 
and a sponge, while the Spanish brown and oil mixture re- 

* May be had of the publisher of this book. 



64 SCHOOL " EXHIBITIONS." 

quires an application of cold cream followed by soap and hot 
water. 

If possible, the Indian should wear a wig of long straight 
hair, surmounted with large, bright-colored feathers. He 
might wear a frock coat of several bright colors, which should 
be trimmed around the bottom with coarse worsted fringe of 
a brilhant hue, and down the front and seams of the sleeves 
in the same manner. His trousers should be made of some 
bright-colored Canton flannel, or anything of the kind, and 
trimmed down the seam with the same fringe. The moccasins 
might be of the same color, heavily trimmed with bead-work. 
He should also wear a wide belt trimmed with beads. In his 
belt he should have a knife and hatchet, and in his hand a 
bow and arrow. Such a dress as this is not absolutely neces- 
sary. A buffalo robe wrapped about a person will sometimes 
answer every purpose. Let the lights he very dim for this 
tableau. "VYhen the tableau has been announced and the cur- 
tain rises, the person who is to describe it may recite either of 
the following pieces of poetry : 

The home of our fathers shall know us no more. 
We are passing away from the hill and the shore ; 
We leave the green meadows, the rock and the stream, 
For the days of our glory have passed like a dream. 

A nation of strangers is taking our place. 
But none will lament for the red man's lost race ; 
Like the light of the sun at the close of the day, 
Like the dew and the mist, we are passing away. 

A tree of the forest, no more I shall brave 
The tempests of winter that over me rave ; 
My branches all withered, my foliage all strown, 
I soon shall be prostrate, decaying and lone. 

E. G. Barber. 

Lo ! the poor Indian, whose untutor'd mind 
Sees God in clouds, or hears him iu the wind ; 



SCHOOL *' EXHIBITIONS. " 65 

His soul proud science never taught to stray 

Far as the Solar Walk or Milky Way ; 

Yet simple nature to his hope has giv'n, 

Behind the cloud-topt hill a humbler heav'n ; 

Some safer world in depth of woods embrac'd, 

Some happier island in the wat'ry waste, 

Where slaves once more their native land behold, 

No fiends torment, no Christians thirst for gold. — Pope. 



m. V.-LITTLE EOT BLUE. 

Such a tableau as this is prettier if represented within a 
frame. A large pine frame, covered with gilt paper, can 
easily be made, and attached securely near the centre of the 
stage. It should be raised two or three feet from the floor, 
and to the bottom of it there should be attached a piece of pa- 
per or cloth of the same color as the wall in front of which it 
stands. This cloth will conceal a footstool standing behind 
the frame, on which, in this case, the boy should be placed. 

To form this picture, a little boy about three years of age, 
having a light complexion, light curly hair and blue eyes, 
should be selected. The clothes may be made of light blue 
paper cambric. He should stand on the footstool, with his 
cap in one hand and his other hand in the sugar-cup, which is 
placed on a small table at his side. After the tableau has been 
announced and the curtain rises, the person appointed to an- 
nounce it should recite the following verses : 

Little blue trousers and jacket and cap — 

A neat little suit for a cute little chap — 

A spry little foot in a blue little shoe. 

And a pair of blue eyes has my little Boy Blue. 

All through the cottage his merriment rings, 
Gladsome and gay are the songs that he sings. 
One sunny Summer-time added to two. 
This is the age of my little Boy Blue. 



66 



SCHOOL * ' EXHIBITIONS. " 



Hand in the sugar-cup finding a lump- 
Next to the stairway — a trip and a bump ; 
Then in the mud with his trim little shoe, 
How can I scold him — my little Boy Blue. 

Autumn and Winter slip by us so fast — 
Spring-time and Summer-time gayly glide past- 
Swiftly the seasons are hurrying through, 
Making a man of my httle Boy Blue. 



NO. VI.-THE LIGHT OP OTHEK DATS. 

This picture can be easily represented. In the centre of 
the platform, on an old-fashioned stand, should be placed a 
lighted candle (a dipped candle if possible), in an old-fashioned 
candlestick. In front of the candlestick should stand a pair of 
snuffers in their tray. No explanation should be given of this 
tableau, but it should be announced as usual, and when the 
curtain rises some one concealed at the right or left of the stage 
should sing, softly, the following words : 



Words and Music from " The Song Book of the School," pub. in 1847. 



i 



Oft 



the 



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SCHOOL ''EXHIBITIONS.** 67 

NO. VIL-" JOHN AlfDEESON," 

AS PICTURED BY THE PEN OF ROBERT BURNS. 

To represent this picture, two persons should be dressed 
like very old people, and should sit near the centre of the stage, 
in high-backed, old-fashioned arm-chairs. The woman's left 
hand should lie in the man's right hand. They should both 
wear glasses. The man should wear, if possble, a long white 
wig, braided in a cue behind, and tied with a ribbon. He 
should also wear knee-breeches, knee-bucldes, shoe-buckles, 
ruffled shirt, etc., if thoy can be obtained. The woman should 
wear a white cap, with very wide ruffle, and strings (powder 
the hair in front where it shows), a plain dress, a handkerchief 
around the neck, crossed in front, and hold a snuff-box in her 
hand. If convenient, the man and woman might be dressed 
in Scottish costume. After the tableau has been announced 
and the curtain rises, some one carefully concealed behind the 
woman's chair should recite the following verses. It is par- 
ticularly desirable that both man and woman sit motionless. 
The effect will be far better if the verses can be recited in the 
voice of an old woman. 

John Anderson, my jo, John, 

When we were first acquent, 
Your locks were like the raven, 

Your bonnie brow was brent ; 
But now you're growing auld, John, 

Your locks are like the snaw ; 
But blessings on your frosty pow, 

John Anderson, my jo. 

John Anderson, my jo, John, 

We clamb the hill thegither, 
And monie a cantie day, John, 

We've had wi' ane anither. 



SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS. 

Now we maun totter down, John, 
But hand in hand we'll go ; 

And sleep thegither at the foot, 
John Anderson, my jo. 



irO. VTEL-LITTLE OHILDEEir. 

This tableau can be very easily represented, and, if well ar- 
ranged, makes a pretty picture. Arrange ten or a dozen liule 
children prettily and naturally on the stage. They may have 
their different toys and games, and be engaged in play, if 
thought desirable. After the tableau has been announced r.nd 
the curtain rises, the person who is to describe it should recite 
the following lines. If it is difficult fi-r the children to keep 
quiet during the entire recitation, the curtain may be lowered 
for a moment, giving them a rest, and then raised again, the 
recitation being continued during this time. 

Sporting through the forest wide. 
Playing by the water side, 
Wandering o'er the heathy fells, 
Down within the woodland dells. 
And among the mountains wild, 
Dwelleth many a little child. 

In the baron's hall of pride, 
By the poor man's dull fireside. 
With the mighty, with the mean. 
Little children may be seen ; 
Like the flowers that spring up fair. 
Bright and countless everywhere. 

Blessings on them ! they in me 

Move a kindly sympathy , 

With their wishes, hopes, and fears. 

With their laughter and their tears. 

With their wonders so intense. 

And their small experieuce I— Mary Howitt. 



SCHOOL ** EXHIBITIONS." 69 

NO. IX -THE MILK-MAID. 

The carpet on the stage should be taken up, or covered with 
brown paper, or anything that will represent a bare floor. An 
old table and a few wooden chairs should be introduced so as 
to make the room appear like a kitchen. The milk-maid 
should stand a little in front of the centre of the stage, either 
with her milk-pail balanced on her head or lying on its side 
upon the floor, with a stream of milk flowing out of it. A 
long, irregular piece of thin white paper, extending into the 
pail and along the floor, will represent the milk that has been 
spilled. The maid should be dressed in calico, with a coarse 
apron. If she bears the pail upon her head she should appear 
as if lost in deep thought. If she has spilled her milk she 
should be looking sorrowfully at the disaster. After the tab- 
leau has been announced and the curtain rises, it should be 
described by the recitation of the following : 

A milk-maid, who poi?ed a full pail on her head, 
Thus mused on her prospects in life, it is said : 
*' Let me see — I should think that this milk will procure 
One hundred good eggs, or four score, to be sure. 

** Well, then — stop a bit — it must not be forgotten, 
Some of them may be broken, and some may be rotten I 
But if twenty for accident should be detached, 
It will leave me just sixty sound eggs to be hatched. 

* Well, sixty sound eggs — no, sound chickens, I mean : 
Of these some may die — we'll suppose seventeen. 
Seventeen I not so many — say ten at the most. 
Which will leave fifty chickens to boil or to roast. 

** But, then, there's their barley, how much will they need? 
Why, they take but one grain at a time when they feed — 
So that's a mere trifle ; now then, let us see. 
At a fair market price how much money there'll be. 



70 SCHOOL ** EXHIBITIONS." ; 

** Six shillings a pair — five — four — three-and-six, 
To prevent all mistakes, that low price I will fix. 
Now what will that make ? fifty chickens , I said — 
Fifty times three-and-sixpence — ril ask hrotJier Ned, 

**0 ! but stop — three-and-sixpence a joa^> I must sell 'em ; 
Well, a pair is a couple — now then let us tell 'em : 
A couple in fifty will go — (my poor brain !) 
Why, just a score times, and five pair will remain. 

** Twenty -five pair of fowls — now how tiresome it is, 
That I can't reckon up so much money as this ! 
Well, there's no use in trying, so lei's give a guess — 
I'll say twenty pounds, and it cannot he less. 

" Twenty pounds, I am certain, will buy me a cow, 
Thirty geese and two turkeys— eight pigs and sow ; 
Now if these turn out well, at the end of the year, 
I shall fill both my pockets with guineas, 'tis clear." 

Forgetting her burden, when this she had said. 

The maid superciliously tossed up her head. 

When, alas ! for her prospects, her milk-pail descended, 

And so all her schemes for the future were ended. 

This moral, I think, may be safely attached, — 

*' Reckon not on your chickens before they are hatched. 

Jeffreys Taylor. 
If the maid finds it difficult to etand motionless for so long 
a time, the curtain may be lowered during the middle of the 
recitation, and she could rest while a few lines were being re- 
cited. If this is done, she may appear the first time with the 
pail on her head, the and second with the pail on the floor. 



irO.X.~S¥EET HOME. 

The stage should represent a parlor and a home circle. A 
little child should sit in its mother's lap. Another child should 



SCHOOL ' * EXHIBITIONS. ' 



71 



be climbing on its father's chair to play with his watch chain. 
The father might be reading. The old grandmother, appro- 
priately dressed, should sit in her arm-chair, knitting. The 
first child might have a cat in her arms, and one or two others 
might be playing about the floor with their toys. One or two 
older children should sit at the table, writing or studying. If 
convenient, a girl might ^it at a piano, as if playing. When 
the tableau has been announced and the curtain rises, some one 
at the right or left hand of the stage should sing, softly, the 
first verse of Home, Sweet Home. If preferred, this might be 
considered as a moving tableau, and the girl seated at the piano 
could then play and sing the verse. 

From the " Boston Melodeon.' 






Mid pleasures and pal - a - ces, tho' we may 



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72 SCHOOL " exhibitions/' 



NO. XL-TEE OEILD-VIOLIlflST. 

A little boy with a tired, mournful expression of counte- 
nance, wilh his fingers on the strings of a violin, should stand 
a little in advance of the centre of the stage. After the tab- 
leau has been announced and the curtain rises, the person who 
is to describe it should recite the following : 

He must play for his lordship's levee, 
He must play for her ladyship's whim, 

Till the poor little head is heavy. 
And the poor little brain will swim. 

See the face grows peaked and eerie. 
And the large eyes strange and bright, 

And they ne'er will say " He is weary ! 
And must rest for at least one night ! " 

Here the curtain should fall, and, out of sight, the boy 
should play a few measures of some mournful strain. Sud- 
denly there should be a noise as if a string of the violin had 
snapped. In the meantime, the person who describes this 
tableau should recite the following verse : 

It is dawn and the birds are waking, 

As the boy seeks his silent room. 
List ! the sound of a strained cord breaking 

A something snapped in the gloom. 

Here the person who is to describe the tableau should dis- 
appear for a moment behind the curtain, then returning he 
should repeat the following verse : 

'Twas a string of his violoncello. 

And I heard him stir in his bed : 
" Make room for a tired little fellow, 

Kind God !— " Twas the last that he said. 



SCHOOL ''exhibitions." 73 



NO. Xn.-PLATI1IG TAKE TEA. 

This requires a small, low table covered neatly with a cloth. 
Low chairs for children should be placed around the table. 
The table should be nicely set with children's tea things. 
There should be no food on the table and only cold water in 
the teapot. A little girl should sit at the head of the table 
with the teapot raised as if pouring out a cup of tea. A dog, 
sitting on his hind legs, should be at the foot of the table. 
Some dogs can be taught to sit thus for quite a long time. I 
have seen toy dogs in this posture as large as life . Such a 
one would be excellent for this picture. A doll may occupy 
one chair and a girl with a doll in her arms another. A boy 
may also be seated in a chair with a puppy in his arms. This 
fdrms a very pleasing tableau, especially for children. After 
the tableau has been announced and the curtain rises, the per- 
son who is to describe it should repeat the following verses : 

They all diink tea together, 

And Gold-Locks hostess is ; 
Bessie has brought her loveliest child, 

And Teddy has brought his; 

And Tony, though not invited, 

Of course was sure to come; 
And there he sits with wishful eyes 

And waits to get a crumb 

*Tis a very dainty table, 

Spread with a most complete 
And quaint, flower-painted china set; 

But what is there to eat ? 

The hostess smiles and whispers, 

' * Play these are sandwiches I 
Play this is an orange marmalade,— 

That these are stiawberries I " 



74 SCHOOL "exhibitions." 

Then out of the little teapot 

She gravely pours the tea, 
(Though water for tea and the cream 

Is all that I can see). 

They sit and gossip and linger, 

And toy with fork and spoon, 
While grows toward its sunset hour 

The pleasant afternoon. 

Contentment we learn from children • 

Happy with little, we see, 
As here we show how the little folks 

Do sometimes 'play take tea. 

The curtain can be dropped for a moment during the recita- 
tion, thus giving the children a short rest. 



NO. Xin -A OOUNTET SCHOOL. 

To represent this picture, the stage should be uncarpeted, or 
something should be spread over the carpet to make it look as 
if the floor were bare. A few low benches should be placed 
about, on which a number of children should be seated. One 
little girl should be laying down her head as if asleep, a girl 
and boy should be playing "■ cat's cradle " in a corner of the 
room, one boy should have his mouth very wide open as if 
gaping, a few children pretending to study, and ** Jemmy," 
with a fish-line over the back of his seat might be playing 
catch trout, and another boy should stand near the centre of 
the room with his hands over his eyes as if in disgrace. The 
blue-eyed teacher must sit near a desk on which stands a vase 
of flowers. She holds in her hand a large colored alphabet 
and is pointing to the letter O. A boy, with his hands behind 
him, stands in front of her, his mouth arranged as if saying O. 
After the tableau has been announced and the curtain rises, 
the person who is to describe it should recite the following 
verses : 



SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS." 75 

Pretty and pale and tired, 

She sits in her stiff -backed chair, "^ 
While the blazing summer sun 

Shines in on her soft brown hair. 
And the little brook without, 

That she hears through the open door, 
Mocks with its murmur cool 

Hard bench and dusty floor. 

It seems such an endless round, 

Grammar and A, B, C ; 
The blackboard and the sums ; 

The stupid geography; 
When from teacher to little Jem 

Not one of them cares a straw 
Whether *' John " is in any *' case," 

Or Kansas in Omaha. 

For Jemmy's bare brown feet 

Are aching to wade in the stream. 
Where the trout to his luring bait 

Shall leap with a quick bright gleam ; 
And his teacher's blue eyes stray 

To the flowers on the desk hard by. 
Till her thoughts have followed her eyes 

With a half -unconscious sigh. 

Her heart outruns the clock, 

As she smells their faint sweet scent ; 
But when have time and heart 

Their measure in unison blent ? 
For time will haste or lag, 

Like your shadow on the grass, 
That lingers far behind. 

Or flies when you fain would pass. 

Have patience, restless Jem, 

The stream and the fish will wait; 
And patience, tired blue eyes,— 



76 SCHOOL *'EXHiBITIOI^S." 

Down the winding road by the gate, 
Under the willow shade, 

Stands some one with fresher flowers; 
So turn to your books again, 

And keep love for the after hours. 



NO. XIV -THE OEILDEEN'S OENTENiriAL. 

To represent this picture, two girls and a boy should stand 
near the centre of the stage. The boy should have several 
small flags in his hand, one of the girls an apron and the 
other a doll. The first and last should have their mouths open 
as if just saying ''hurrah," and their arms raised as if ready 
to swing them heartily. The other girl should stand with her 
side face to the audience, as if expostulating with her mother 
who stands at a little distance. The latter should look very 
much displeased f nd appear as though she had been scolding 
the children. She holds a child in her arms, w^ho holds a 
dilapidated doll. "When the tableau has been announced and 
the curtain rises, the person who is to describe it should recite 
the following verses. Give the children a little rest in the 
middle of the piece. 

Why, mamma, 'tis our centennial, 

Just one whole day ago. 
Papa brought home our lovely doll — 

That's why we're shouting so. 
Jack's got out all his flags 

And he's w aving them round, you see; 
And we're shouting ** Hurrah ! boys " — 

Jack and Em and me. 

We didn't suppose you'd mind so much 

If we did wake baby, j^ou know; 
'Cause people always shout out loud 

At a big centennial show. 



SCHOOL '*EXniBITIONS.'* 77 

At least, so Bennie told us, 

*' And papa told me," says he; 
And then we shouted * ' Hurrah ! boys " — 

Jack and Em and me. 

A whole long day we've had our doll, 

And yet she is beautiful still; 
And, though one arm has grown putty thin, 

We have saw-dust enough to fill 
Em's red pin-cushion all chuckfull — 

We tapped her for that, you see; 
And then we shouted '* Hurrah I boys " — 

Jack and Em and me. 

And we don't much mind if her leg is broke, 

'Cause it makes her look older so, 
And Ben says things must be awful old 

To have a centennial show. 
So then we put on her very worst dress. 

That Peggy wore, you see ; 
And then we shouted *' Hurrah ! boys "— 

Jack and Em and me. 

And then you came, and baby cried, 

And you took our dolly away. 
And said we couldn't have her again, 

Not for all the long to-day. 
And we don't, don't like centennials, 

But it wasn't our fault, you see ; 
We thought we ought to ** Hurrah I boys " — 

Jack and Em and me. 

Ben's always a-getting things all wrong 

That papa tells him all right. 
And he tolds us lots about this show, 

Out on the porch last night — 
How he kept it like a birthday, 

*' The very best birthday," says he; 
So, of course, we shouted *'Hurrali ! boys"— 

Jack and Em and me. 



78 SCHOOL. " EXHIBITIONS.'* 

'Cause 'twas our best dolly's birthday, 

And we had the flags, you know, 
And Ben sail they always had to have flags 

For a big centennial show. 
" They take off their hats and scream out loud. 

And have a good time," says he; 
So, of course, we shouted *' Hurrah ! boys** — 

Jack and Em and me. 

Mrs. a. B. Mason. 



NO. XV.-EOBUf'S BUTUEN. 

For this picture, arrange the stage with suitable furniture to 
represent an old-fashioned kitchen. A few evergreens should 
be liung about to indicate the Christmas season. The mother, 
appropriately dressed, should be sitting at the table mending 
stockings, and a little girl could sit on a footstool at htr feet 
holding her ball of j'arn. The father should sit nearly oppo- 
site the mother, holding one child in his arms while another 
stands at his knee looking up in his face. Another child might 
be playing on the floor. A girl could sit at the table reading. 
A little back of these a spinning wheel should stand, and the 
grandmother, dressed as described in one of the other tableaux, 
should look as if she had just risen from her seat in great haste, 
and is clapping her hands in glee and looking eagerly towards 
Robin, Tvho, with his "merry brown face " and snow-covered 
clothes, stands in the doorway, and w^hom she appears to be 
welcoming. Very small bits of white tissue paper will repre- 
sent snow very well. None but grandmother appears to see 
the entrance of Robin. After the announcement of this tab- 
leau, when the curtain rises, the person who is to describe it 
should repeat the following verses : 

It was Yule, and the snow kept falling 

In silent shadowy flight, 
Through the dull gray haze of the daylight. 

Far into the starless nisrht : 



SCHOOL "exhibitions." 79 

And father sat close at the fireside, 

With the children round his knee, 
And every bonny brown face was there 

But the one that was at sea. 

Never a letter and ne'er a word, 

And my eyes with tears were dim. 
As I wreathed the holly upon the wall. 

And harked to the children's hymn ; 
And father said as their carol ceased. 

With a smile nigh like a tear, 
** Christmas will scarce be Christmas, wife, 

If our boy should not be here." 

The wheel in the nook stood all unturned. 

And I saw not granny's face ; 
But the tears dropped under the wrinkled hands. 

Held towards the Yule log blaze; 
Poor Bessie she turned to the doorway, 

With face both pale and sad. 
So I kissed her cheek ere we parted 

For love of my sailor lad. 

As I looked down the drift-dimmed pathway 

I said there's one we know, 
Would have given a good deal, darling, 

To have seen you thro* the snow ; 
Then we drew near the hearth together. 

And listened side by side. 
For the first blithe peal of the merry bells 

Which welcome Christmas tide. 

Never a sound but the crackling log. 

And the wind amid the thatch. 
Till the clock was near the stroke of twelve. 

When a finger raised the latch ; 
A merry brown face stood at the door, 

The face I loved the best. 
And the snow in the curls of Robin 

Lay melting on my breast 1 



80 SCHOOL *' EXHIBITIONS. *' 

Dear granny she rose from her corner 

And clapped her hands in glee, 
And she said, ** O roving Robin, 
' You must keep a kiss for me ! 
And there's some one else will want one, too. 

Who left not long ago ! " 
" Ah, she got it," quoth Eobin, laughing, 

* ' When we met among the snow. '* 

John James Lonsdale. 



irO. XVL-LEAEU TO EEEP HOUSH 

The stage should be fitted up to represent a kitchen as nearly 
as possible. Ten or a dozen little girls (the smaller the better) 
should be scattered about the stage, engaged in various em- 
ployments. Of course they should be motionless, only looldng 
as if at work. The girls should all have plain calico dresses 
and high aprons. Several of them should have their sleeves 
rolled up. One girl should be sweeping, another dusting, and 
one at the farther side of the stage could be down en her knees 
with a cloth in her hand and a pail of water at her side, as if 
in the act of scrubbing the floor. One girl could stand at a 
table ironing, another mixing bread, and a third scouring 
knives. A very small girl might stand at a tub, with her 
sleeves rolled up, having the appearance of washing with all 
her might on the washboard. Another girl could be mending 
stockings. A very large stocking should be drawn over her 
left hand. Another girl might be paring apples, or any 
other employment that suggests itself to the mind. After the 
tableau has been announced and the curtain rises, the person 
who is to describe it should recite the following verses : 

iBeautiful maidens— ^aye, nature's fair queens. 
Some in 3'our twenties, and some in 3 our teens, 
Seeking accomplishments worthy your aim, 
Seeking for learning, thirsting for f^nae, 



SCHOOL ** EXHIBITIONS." 81 

Taking such pains with the style of your hair, 
Keeping your hly complexion so fair, 
Miss not this item in all your gay lives : 
Learn to keep house, you may one day be wives ; 
Learn to keep house I 

Now your Adonis loves sweet moonlight walks, 
Hand-clasps and kisses, and nice little talks ; 
Then, as plain Charlie, with burdens and care, 
He must subsist on more nourishing fare ; 
He will come home at the set of the sun. 
Heart-sick and weary, his working day done. 
Thence let his slippered feet ne'er wish to roam ; 
Learn to keep house, you may keep him at home; 
Learn to keep house ! 

First in his eyes will be children and wife, 
Joy of his joy, and life of his life; 
Next, his bright dwelling, his table, his meals ; 
Shrink not at what my pen trembling reveals, 
Maidens romantic ; the truth must be told ; 
Knowledge is better than silver and 'gold. 
Then be prepared ; in the Spring-time of health 
Learn to keep house, tho* surrounded with wealth • 
Learn to keep house ! 

This tableau may be represented vv^ith excellent effect by 
young ladies, the above arrangement being rather a burlesque. 



NO. XVn -THE DIEGE OF THE OLAM. 

Place a table in the centre of the stage , and cover it with a 
cloth which is not very conspicuous for color or figure. Let 
the cloth extend to the floor on every side of the table visible 
to the audience. Place a large quantity of clams or clam- 
shell* in the centre of the table, as much in the form of a 



83 scHoot, ''exhibitions.'" 

pyramid as possible. Have a very large clam, with its mouth 
wide open for the top of the pyramid. Let two boys be con- 
cealed beneath the table. After the tableau has been announced 
and the curtain rises, one of the boys should ask the questions 
given in the following verses, and the other boy, m a very 
deep bass voice, should make the answers. 

Who dragged me from my little hole, 
And took my mother, poor old soul I 
And put us on the red-hot coal ? 
The fat men I 

And when we roasted in the shell, 
Who came around to catch the smell. 
And laughed and said, '"Tis well ? " 
The fat men ! 

Who served us up in great wire pails, 

And sprinkled salt upon our tails. 

Then opened mouths — they'd shame the whalea T 

The fat men ! 

Who swallowed us — girl, boy and child. 
And guzzled beer till they were wild. 
And never said, ''Make my drink mild ? ** 
The fat men ! 

Who laid them down that night to sleep, 
And felt inside the clam-ghost creep, 
And got up fast and ran to weep ? 
The fat men ! 

Who laughed with glee at the dreadful groan, 
And said aloud when they heard the moan, 
" Revenge is sweet, it is our own ? " 
The clam — clam I 

G. H. Edwards, 



SCHOOL ' * EXniBlTIOKS. '* 



NO. XVm -A DEEAM OP THE PAST. 

To represent this picture, let a pretty young girl be seated 
at a wheel spinning. If possible obtain a linen wheel. Half 
of the stage should look as much like an old-fashioned kitchen 
as possible, and the spinner should be placed about the middle 
of this half. A bright tallow candle should stand on a pine 
table, and various old-fashioned things, such as china, etc., 
should also be placed about the room. The other part of the 
stage should be furnished like a room of to-day. An old gen- 
tleman, with gray hair, is leaning back in an arm-chair, fast 
asleep. As the curtain rises the person who is to describe the 
tableau should repeat the following : 

When the backlog's bright glow enlivened the room, 

Where sunshine delighted to stay, 
With her trim little wheel the spinner Would come, 

And sit at her task all the day. 
fhe flax on her distaff so evenly wound, 

She coaxed into thread soft and fine, 

Hiile she sang lullabies as the plyers went round, 

Or talked of the days of " Lang syne." 

ler smile was as glad as the sunrise of May, 

When bud, bloom and dewdrop are there; 
Lnd never were happier children than they 

Who played 'round or leaned on her chair, 
ler voice was as sweet as the music of birds, 

Or brooks that flow laughing along; 

. voice that man's spirit soothes, strengthens and girds 

Life's burdens to bear with a song 

ler burden of life with such hearty good cheer. 

She bore till her day's work was done, 
^o tangle nor break in her skein did appear, 

For grace oile<J her wheel as she spun. 



84. SCHOOL " EXHIBITIOTs'S.'* 

She was not afraid of the snow nor the cold, 
For in *' scarlet " her household were dressed, 

And the wool and the flax she wrought hke fine gold, 
For love every fibre impressed. 

O, beautiful spinner, and beautiful days ! 

O, hearthlight and sunshine of then ! 
How memory loiters along the old ways, 

And revels with childhood again ! 
The backlog's bright glow, the neat sunny room, 

The whirr of the wheel on the air. 
The voice and the smile of the spinner all come, 

As listening I lean on her chair. 

But I start from my dreaming to find that alone 

I sit by the hearthside to-day. 
While naught of the bygone remains but the tone 

Of memory's wind-harp at play. 
Her distaff dismantled lies in an old cask, 

With the cards and the uncarded tow, 
While the hands that so cheerfully wrought every task. 

Were folded to rest long ago. 

And like the sweet odors of flowers that remain. 

Though withered they lie on their bed. 
The grace of her life until memory wane. 

Around me its fragrance will shed. 
And I would that my distaff of duty to-day, 

With love such as hers might be wound ; 
That, when I am done and my wheel put away, 

My skein might as faultless be found .—A. P.Walker. 



NO. XIX.-STEEET SCENE IN NEW TOEK. 

This is XI moving tableau. The objection to moving tableaux 
is, that they do not resemble a picture so nearly as the others; 



SCHOOL ' ' EXHIBITIONS. " 85 

Still, they are often very effective, as this one may be if well 
performed. 

The stage must be supposed to represent a street in New 
York. On one corner of the stage (taking up as little room as 
possible) might be a fruit stall. On another corner a little girl 
might be selling flowers. She should hold up her bouquets, 
every now and then crying out, "Bouquets, only ten cents 
apiece ! " Standing in an out-of-the-way place, there might 
be a man, appropriately dressed, with a hand-organ and a 
monkey, if one can be obtained. When the curtain rises the 
hand-organ must be played with little intermission. A man 
might be walking up and down the street bearing a placard in 
front of him, on which should be printed some advertisement. 
In an out-of-the-way place should be a bootblack, and he 
should be calling out at intervals, *'Want a shine ? Want a 
shine V* A newsboy should be hurrying along crying out, 
*' Extra Herald 1 Extra Herald ! Great fire in Chicago ! '* In 
another place should be a scissors grinder. Almost anything 
can be made to represent the machine, but he must have a 
small bell which he should ring at intervals. His cry should 
be • 

" Scissors to grind ! Scissors to grind ! 
Any razors, or scissors, or penknives to grind ? 
1*11 engage that my work shall be done to your mind." 

In another place a man might be selling oranges. His cry 
should be : 

. *' Oranges ! oranges ! Sixteen for a quarter. 
Here's fine sweet oranges, 

Bich, flowing with juice, 
Just arrived from abroad, 
Ripe and ready for use. '* 

An old woman, very poorly dressed, with a basket on her 
arm, might be selling matches. She should hold some in her 
hand, and her cry might be : 

'* Matches ! Matches I will you have any matches to-day ? 



86 SCHOOL "exhibitions." 

Fine matches ! good matches ! 

Will you please to have any ? 
In pity do take some, 

Three bunches a penny. " 

An old woman, poorly dressed, with a comical looking bon- 
net and a basket on her arm, might be selling radishes. 
The basket could be filled with radishes, and she could hold 
* one or two bunches in her hand. Her cry might be : 

** Radishes ! Radishes ! Here's your fine radishes ! 
Radishes ! Radishes ! I hold them to view. 
Turnip or carrot form, as fine as e'er grew. " 

A poorly dressed man, with some tools in his hand, and on 
his shoulder an iron ring on which are a great many keys, 
both new and old, could pass along, with a cry something like 
this : 

** Any locks to repair or keys to be fitted ? 
Do you want any locks 
Put in goodly repair ? 
Or any keys fitted. 
To turn true as a hair ? " 
Anotlier man might have brooms and brushes. His cry 
could be : 

'* Brooms ! Brooms ! Any brooms or brushes to-day ? 
Come, buy a new brush, 

Or a nice sweeping broom ; 
'Tis pleasant indeed 
To have a clean room. " 

A dirty looking boy with a queer looking broom over his 
shoulder, could represent the chimney sweep. The following 
might be his cry : 

*' Sweep O ! Patent sweep ! Here's your patent sweep. 
Sweep for your soot, ho ! I am the man. 
That your chimney will clean, if any one can." 

A little boy could have pop-corn for sale. This might hifl 
cry, " Pop-corn I Pop-corn ! Five cents a package ! '* 



SCHOOL "exhibitions." 87 



^KA. great variety of other things will probably be presented to 
^fte mind of any one who wishes to use this tableau. 
IP When the curtain rises there should be but few persons on 
the stage. Some one might be at the fruit stall, one or two fine 
ladies walking up and down the stage, the bootblack, the man 
with the hand-organ, and the girl with the bouquets would be 
sufficient. The hand- organ should be playing, and the cry of 
the little girl and the bootblack should occasionally be heard. 
Then, one by one, the other peddlers should enter and begin 
to parade the street and cry their wares. 

The cry of each one should be heard before he appears in 
sight, and the words should be spoken so plainly that every 
one can be distinctly heard. There should be no confusion 
until every one has had chance to cry his wares so that he can 
be heard distinctly, then each one should begin to utter his or 
her cry at shorter and shorter intervals, until at last there is a 
perfect uproar. In the midst of the confusion, the curtain 
should fall. After the curtain has fallen the sounds should 
grow fainter and fainter until they finally die away in the dis- 
tance. 



» 



NO. XX.~THE BABY'S PIOTTIEE. 

Arrange the stage to represent a photographer's room as 
nearly as possible. Have a pretty child, dressed as the verses 
describe, with an apple in his hand, sitting in a large chair 
waiting for his picture to be taken. The baby is supposed to 
be fifteen months old from the verses, but it will be found ad- 
visable to select a child considerably older, taking care that the 
dress should conform to a child of under two years. O f course it 
is well to show the tableau as long as the baby can sit still, but 
it will probably be so tiresome for the child that it will doubtless 
have to be shown twice, that is, at the third and fifth verses. 
When the baby is shown in the fifth verse, its face must look 
just as described in the picture. If the child could be taught 
to scream and wrinkle its face at the proper time, this would be 
very effective as a moving tableau. 



88 SCHOOL *' EXHIBITIONS." 

If it is decided to show this picture only at the third and 
fiftli verses, of course the person who is to describe the tableau 
must recite the first two verses before the curtain rises, and 
the last verse after it has fallen. 

** We must carry our beautiful baby to town 

Some day, when the weather is fair," we said. 
** We must dress him up in his prettiest gown, 

And wave his hair on the top of his head; 
For all his cousins, and all his aunts, 

And both his grandmothers proud and dear, 
Declare it is shameful and every way blameful, 

To have had no picture of him this year." 

He was three moths old when we took him "before, 

And he lay like a lamb on his mamma's lap, 
And the darling now has a twelvemonth more 

Of bewildering graces from sock to cap. 
Just look at his dear little laughing face, 

At the rosebud mouth, at the violet eyes — 
Why, the photograph-taker, that vanity shaker, 

Will think, this time, we have brought him a prize I 

We carried our child to the town one day. 
The skies were soft, and the air was cool. 

We robed him richly in fine array — 
Ribbons and laces, and Swiss, and tulle. 

He looked like a prince in the artist's chair, 
^ Sitting erect, and brave and grand, 

With a big red apple he scarce could grapple 
Held close in the palm of one dimpled hand. 

" He is taking it now ! " We held our breath ! 

We furtively peeped from behind the screen I 
'* What a pose 1 " we whispered; then, still as death, 

Waited— and baby was all serene 



SCHOOL ''exhibitions.'* i 

Till the critical moment, when, behold, 

The sun was catching that lovely look, 
Such a terrible roar, it shook the floor ! 

And that was the picture the swift sun took ; 

A wrinkled face, and close-shut eyes, 

And a mouth that's opened so very wide, 
That our dear little sister, sibyl-wise. 

Declares that she can see the cry inside. 
Aunts and cousins and grandmothers dear 

Haven't got over their anger yet ; 
But we thought it was funny, and paid our money 

For that strange phase of our precious pet. 

Ah ! children older than I aby, think, 

Dear little children, blithe and sweet. 
With your curls of gold, and your cheeks of pink, 

And your naughty tempers, sudden and fleet, 
What an awful thing it would be for you 

If an artist should happen along some day. 
And observing the pouting, the frown, or the flouting, 

Should take a picture of you that way ! 

Margaret E. Sangster. 



NO. XXL-THE LITTLE TAMBOUEniE PLATER 

This picture will look better in a frame, such as was de- 
scribed in a former tableau. It will, however, be pretty with- 
out a frame. 

A sad, tired, hungry looking girl, with poor shoes, faded 
dress and unbrushed hair, should stand upon the stage in the 
attitude of wearily shaking a tambourine she holds in her 
hand. The sound of the tambourine can be heard for a 
moment just before the curtain rises and after it has fallen, if 
thought desirable. After the curtain rises, the person who is 
to describe this tableau should recite the following verses : 



QO SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS." 

From morniDg till night, treading the street, 
Dragging her tired and aching feet, 
With faded bodice and hat all torn, 
Hungry, weary, sad and forlorn. 

Often she thinks of the beautiful bay 
Where the happy home of her childhood lay, 
Of the fisherman's boat and the curling sea, 
And her careless life, so glad and free. 

The pavements are hot to her poor bruised feet ; 
She hates the glare of the crowded street. 
And longs for the grass so cool and green^ 
As she wearily shakes her tambourine. 

Her hair is tangled in hopeless maze, — 
It was not so in happier days ; 
Then, a mother's hand, with tenderness. 
Had smoothed it oft, with a soft caress. 

But the mother lies far over the wave. 
And the blue tide ripples beside her grave, 
While Mna wandjrs the wide world o'er, 
With never a friend, on a foreign shore. 

O, happy children with sunny homes, 
Where want or poverty never comes, 
Give to this friendless child your aid. 
Each kindly act will be well repaid. 

Ask the dear God above the sky, 
To look on her with pitying eye, 
That He who feeds the birds of the air. 
May compass her, too, with His tender care ! 

E. Y. S. 



SCHOOL '* EXHIBITIONS." 



91 



THE OENTEiriflAL EXHIBITION. 

A young hoy or girl should come forward to the centre of the stage 
and commence the exercises with the following remarks : 

As but few of those who take part in the exercises this eve- 
ning were old enough to witness the Centennial Exhibition at 
Philadelphia in 1876, and as none of us will probably live till 
another Centennial, we, children, have decided to have a pre- 
tended Centennial Exhibition of our own. 

As the foreign nations so gladly joined with our Great Re- 
public in the Centennial Exhibition at Philadelphia, so you have 
assembled here to-night to celebrate the jubilee with us. If 
you miss a /<?^ of the attractions which enticed so many of 
you to Philadelphia, please remember that we do not charge 
you fifty cents admission, and we do not even object to mak- 
ing change. 

Our exercises will commence with Whittier's Centennial 
Hymn, which was sung at the opening of the Centennial Ex- 
hibition at Philadelphia. 




'n 



Our fa - tilers' God 1 from out whose hand Tlie 



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92 



SCHOOL ' EXHIBITIONS. 



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trust Thee 



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Here where of old, by Thy design, 
The fathers spake that word of thine 
Whose echo is the glad refrain 
Of rended bolt and falling chain, 
To grace our festal time from all 
The zones of earth our guests we call. 

Be with us while the New World greets 
The Old World, thronging all its streets. 
Unveiling all the triumphs won 
By art or toil beneath the sun ; 
And unto common good ordain 
This rivalship of hand and brain. 

Thou who hast here in concord furled 
The war-flags of a gathered world. 
Beneath our western skies fulfil 
The Orient's mission of good will. 
And, freighted M'ith Love's golden fleece, 
Send back the Argonauts of peace. 

For art and labor met in truce, 
For beauty made the bride of use, 
We thank Thee, while withal we crave 
The austere virtues strong to save, 
The honor proof to place or gold, 
The manhood never bought or sold ! 



SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS." 93 

Oh make Thou us, thro' centuries long. 
In peace secure, and justice strong ; 
Around our gift of freedom, draw 
The safeguards of Thy righteous law, 
And, cast in some diviner mould, 
Let the new cycle shame the old. 

will now recite "William Cullen Bryant's ' ' Cen- 



tennial Ode." 

[ Published by permission of Messrs. D. Appleton & Co. ] 

Through storm and calm the years have led 

Our nation on from stage to stage, 
A century's space, until we tread 

The threshold of another age. 

We see there o'er our pathway swept, 

A torrent stream of blood and fire ; 
And thank the ruling power who kept 

Our sacred league of States entire. 

Oh! checkered train of years, farewell. 
With all thy strifes and hopes and fears ; 

But with us let thy memory dwell. 
To warn and lead the coming years. 

And thou, the new beginning age. 
Warned by the past and not in vain. 

Write on a fairer, whiter page 
The record of thy happier reign. 

The audience are invited to join with us in singing ** Amer- 
ica." 

My country, 'tis of thee. 

Sweet land of liberty. 

Of thee we sing ; 
Land where our fathers died. 
Land of the pilgrims' pride. 
From every mountain side 

Let freedom riug. 



64 SCHOOL ''EXHIBITIONS. 

My native country, thee, 
Land of the noble, free, 

Thy name I love ; 
I love thy rocks and rills, 
Thy woods and templed hills ; 
My heart with rapture thrills 

Like that above. 

Let music swell the breeze. 
And ring from all the trees, 

Sweet freedom's song ; 
Let mortal tongues awake. 
Let all that breathe partake. 
Let rocks their silence break. 

The sound prolong. 

Our fathers' God, to Thee, 
Author of liberty. 

To Thee we sing ! 
Long may our land be bright 
With freedom's holy light ; 
Protect us by Thy might. 

Great God, our King. 

Master will now give a "Prophecy of the future 

glory of America," wbich was furnished by an anonymous 
contributor, to some of the colonial journals, prior to the Dec- 
laration of Independence. 

During this declamation, the * * Singers of 1776 " sTwuld make, in 

the dressing room, preparations for their song. TJiese singerst 
should consist of both boys and girls, wlw should be dressed, i 
as neo/rly as possible, in the costu7nes of olden times. 

To years far distant, and to scenes more bright, 
Along the vale of time extend thy sight, 
Where hours and days and years, from yon bright pole. 
Wave following wave, in long succession roll ; 



BCHOOL "EXHIBITIOISS/' 95 

There see in pomp, for ages without end, 
The glories of the Western World ascend I 

See, this blest land in her bright morn appears, 
Wak'd from dead slumbers of six thousand years : 
Where clouds of darkness veil'd each cheering ray, 
To savage beasts and savage men a prey, 
Fair Freedom now her ensign bright displays, 
And peace and plenty bless the golden days. 

In mighty pomp America shall rise, 
Her glories spreading to the boundless skies : 
Of ev'ry fair, she boasts th* assembled charms. 
The queen of empires and the nurse of arms. 
See where her heroes mark their glorious way, 
Arm'd for the fight and blazing on the day. 

Blood stains their steps, and o'er the conquering plain, 
'Mid fighting thousands, and 'raid thousands slain. 
Their eager swords promiscuous carnage blend, 
And ghastly deaths their raging course attend. 
Her mighty power the subject world shall see, 
For laurel'd conquest waits her high decree. 

See her bold vessels rushing to the main. 

Catch the swift gales, and sweep the wat'ry plain ; 

Or, led by commerce, at the merchant's door. 

Unlade the treasures of each di&tant shore ; 

Or arm'd with thunder, on the guilty foe 

Rush, big with death, and aim the impending blow 

Bid every realm that hears the trump of fame. 

Quake at the distant terror of her name I 

You are now invited to listen to a song, in the good old tune 
of ** Windham," from the Singers of 1776 : 

The hoy who is to act as the leader, should stand in front of the 
singers ^ and at a given signal from him, both before the 
commencement and after the close of the song, each boy slumld 



90 SCHOOL *' EXHIBITIONS." 

make a stately how and each girl an old-fafiliioned courtesy. 
The leader should ** line off" the song — that is, he should read 
or repeat the first line, and after that has been sung, the sec- 
ond line should he read, and so on. Considerable practice uiH 
be necessary before all this can he done well. 

Yes, little nest, I'll hold you fast, 

And little birds, one, two, three, four ; 

I've watch'd you long, you're mine at last \ 
Poor little things, you'll 'scape no more. 

Chirp , cry, and fluttter, as you will, 

Ah ! simple rebels, 'tis in vain ; 
Your little wings are unfledged still. 

How can you freedom then obtain ? 

What note of sorrow strikes my ear ? 

Is it their mother thus distrest ? 
Ah, yes, and see, their father dear 

Flies round and round, to seek their nest. 

And is it I who cause their moan ? 

I, who so oft in summer's heat, 
Beneath yon oak have laid me down 

To listen to their songs so sweet ? 

Go, gentle birds ; go free as air ; 

While oft again in summer's heat, 
To yonder oak I will repair. 

And listen to your songs so sweet. — Old Song. 

A recitation by , ** My Native Land, I love thee." 

My own native country, fair home of my soul I 
Thou Leader of Nations ! the Liberty Goal I 
I hail thee in triumph, my country so free, 
Columbia — I strike my weak harp unto thee 1 

Thou meek bride of liberty ! home of the brave I 
I sing thy clear azure, thy emerald wave ; 



SCHOOL " EXHIBITIOI^^S. " 97 

Sweet bnd of my heart ! cynosure of the world, 
May thy star-spangled banner be ever unfurled. 

Thou soft-gliding brooklet, thou mild, whispering breeze, 
Thou clear, placid lake, and you, also, proud seas, 
Svv^ell Nature's loud organ, and tell of our land, 
The asylum of rest for each suffering band. 

My country ! my country ! thou child of the free I 
Thy prayers from thy birth have been Liberty. 
In the " ]\Iay Flower " cradled, thy first lullaby 
Was Truth's potent note, **Make me free, or I die ! " 

Kight came — oh 'twas dark, but the bright gold of morn 
Spread soon o'er the earth — Independence was born ! 
Columbia, let now thy triumphal song rise, 
Increase in its volume and roll to the skies ! 

Mrs. S. J. Davis. 

At the close of this recitation, the wJiole school should sing, without 
instrumental accompaniment y one verse of ''Hail Columbia,''^ 

A Declamation by , ''The Bell of Freedom." 

At the portal of the State House, 

Like some beacon in the storm. 
Round whieli waves are wildly beating. 

Stood a slender boyish form. 
With his eyes fixed on the steeple, 

And his ears agape with greed, 
To catch the first announcement 

Of the signing of the deed. 

Aloft in that high steeple, 

Sat the bellman, old and gray ; 
He was sick of British power, 
•He was sick of British pay ; 
So he sat with lean hand ready 

On the clapper of the bell. 
When signalled from the portal, 

The happy news to tell. 



98 SCHOOL "exhibitions.** 

See, see 1 the black crowd shivers 

Through all its lengthy line. 
As the boy upon the portal 

Looks up and gives the sign ; 
And straightway at the signal 

The old bellman lifts his hand. 
And sends the good news waking 

Iron music through the land ! 

How they shouted I what rejoicing 1 

How the old bell shook the air. 
Till the clang of Freedom ruffled 

The calm, gliding Delaware ! 
How the bonfires and the torches 

Lighted up the night's repose I 
And from out the flames like Phoenix, 

Slaughtered Liberty arose ! — Anonymous. 
Pliiladelphia, July 4, 1776. 

At the close of this declamation the whole school sliould unite in 
singing ' ' Thrice hail, happy day ! 

A recitation by , '' Our Foe in 1776—1876." 

This piece should he spoken hy a tery small boy, or girl. 

In seventeen hundred seventy-six 

Against the crown we fought, 
And with the nation's choicest blood 

Our Independence bought. 
In eighteen hundred seventy-six 

"We fight another foe — 
A tyrant king who rules the land 

And fills the world with woe. 

Oh I for the patriot's spirit now 

To battle for the right ; 
Oh 1 for a Washington to lead 

Our armies in the fight : 



SCHOOL "exhibitions/* 99 

But only let us women vote, 

And soon the time will come 
When we can celebrate the day 

Our nation conquered Hum / — Anonymous. 

At tJie close of this recitation^ the whole school should unite in 
singing : 

Work, for the laght is coming ; 

Work, through the morning hours ; 
Work, while the dew is sparkling ; 

, Work, 'mid springing flowers : 
Work, when the day grows brighter ; 

Work, in the glowing sun ; 
Work, for the night is coming, 

When all work is done. 

A recitation by , **That Banner a Hundred Years 

Old." 

This piece should he recited hy a little girl dressed in red, white and 
blue. She should hold in her hand a flag, which, at appropri- 
ate times, she should wave. If possible, a class of little girls, 
all dressed in red, white and Hue, should come on the stage, 
one of whom should carry the flag and recite the poetry. At 
the close of the recitation the class, or, if there is no class, the 
' whole school, should unite in singing one mi^se of ' ' Bed, White 
and Blue. " 

There's an emblem so dear to American hearts, 

Floating over the land that is free, 
Since the Goddess of Liberty's cradle was rocked 

On the shores of the isle of the sea. 

With a dark field of blue, and a bright stripe of red, 

Bespangled with stars bright as gold, 
A Centennial present from brave hearts now still ; 

This ''banner a huudiel years old." 



100 



SCHOOL " EXHIBITIONS. 



And when Libert}^, crushed by the grim tyrant's hand, 

Lay panting and bleeding alone, 
Ere the brave hearts had ralhed around our dear land, 

And had offeied their blood to atone. 

And the angel of love looking down from above, 

Dropped tears on t!:e blue ocean cold, 
And plashing that flag, they enfigured ench star 

On this " banner a hundred years old." 

God bbss our Centennial meeting at home ! 

May joys and sweet pleasures untold 
Cluster round the dear emblem our forefathers gave, 

This ** banner a hundred years old." 

We ask your attention to another song by the *" Singers of 
1776," called " Commencement," which was w.itten for (»ne of 
the first singing schools established in this couiitry ai ei ihe 
introduction of notes. 




-s- 



Well met, my lov-ing friends of art, In concLiL 



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1 


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ring. Each join 


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say, 



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iEp3=p|^g|sii^=-gi 



set your key to eiLher sharp. To shig sol, la, mi, i^. 



SCHOOL "exhibitions/* 101 

Let Will and John the tenor sound 

And sing melodiously ; 
While Joe and Ben the bass go round 

To make sweet harmony. 
Let Poll and Sal sing treble sweet 

In chords that sweetly play 
To move all parts soft and complete 

And sing sol, la, mi, fa.* 

Within the Temple, Solomon 

In musick took delight ; 
He voices had to join with him 

Two hundred eighty -eight 
So may we ever take delight. 

In musick's art alway, 
And all unite by day or night 

To sing sol, la, mi, fa. 

A declamation by . 

This is Centennial year, boys, 

Now make a resolution 
To never gamble, smoke, or drink ; 

'Twill spoil your constitution. 

And as did our fathers, 

One hundred years ago. 
Let's vote for independence, 

And its blessings strive to show. 

And when we go to Congress, 

In a few short years or so. 
We'll vote for right and justice, 

And let our country know. 

That old f hills can boast 

Of Congressmen so rare, 
No lack of fitness keeps them from 

The Presidential chair. 

* The singer should pronounce fa with the long sound of a. 
t Here maybe given tlij name of tlio town, city, or state. 



102 SCHOOL ** EXHIBITIONS. 

We next ask the attention of this audience to a Centennial 
oration from the youngest member of our primary class, {here 
tJi2 child should come forward and say) As I am so tired and 
sleepy, will you please excuse me from making a longer Cen- 
tennial speech? 

I now announce to you a Dialogue, entitled "1776 and 
1876." , 

1776. — A young lady in full dress of the Bewlutionary period. 
1876. — A young lady dressed in the extreme of the present fashion. 

1776 enters to the rights advances to front of the stage and makes 
an oldfashioned courtesy. 1876 follows at a Utile distance, 
when '76, turning and catching sight of her , exclaims: 

1776. Laws me ! What horrible looking creeter's this ? 

1876. Horrible looking, indeed! What a blessing some 
folks can't see themselves as others see them. Such a w^ant 
of style ! {looking '76 all owr) such ignorance of fashion ! I 
do think our present modes are perfectly lovely 1 {inspecting 
her own dress generally) Why, you poor old fossil, what are 
you doing here ? 

17? 6. Doin' ? why, looking round, to be sure ; it runs in 
our blood to be lookln' rouud. Ever sence Van Winkle took 
a twenty years' sleep, and waked up to find the whole airth 
turned topsy-turvy, some of us has come back every few years 
to find out how things is goin' on. I'm Mistress Rip Van 
Winkle, at your sarvice. (Jerking a low courtesy.) 

1876. Mrs. Eip Yan Winkle 1 Ahl I didn't know such a 
troublesome habit ran in your family. 

1776. Didn't know 1 Thank fortin there's something 1876 
don't know. Here I've been wanderin east, west, north and 
south, lookin' on and sighin' over the times runnin' backard so, 
but never till now have I met a man, woman, or child that 
owned there was anything in this universe they didn't know. 
Young woman, I've hopes of yo i ! But be you young ? 

1876. Young? Don't yo:i perceive I am? What do you 
ask ibuch a question ai that for ? 



SCHOOL '* exhibitions/* 103 

1778. 'Cause, between the isn'ts and the ought to-be' s I'm all 
mixed up. I've followed gay-looking young creeters, with 
their doll's bonnets on their top hairs, and a long curl liangin' 
over their shoulders, pretty near the same color as their hair, 
and I've thought, ** "Well, that gal's mother's taken a deal of 
pains to rig her out, sure I on'y it's a pity she's run off with 
her sister's gown on, two or three yards too long ; " when, lo 
and behold ! she'd turn, and if Tier face wasn't forty or fifty it 
ought to be. Laws ! in my day, children used to make believe 
they were grown folks, but grown folks didn't play they were 
children. We spun and wove, and kept the wolf from the 
door, and the Indians, too, while oiii men fought for a free 
home. We didn't keep our hair in a box, and put it on arter- 
noons, and try to pass off for sweet sixteen. So look here, he 
you young ? 

1876. Dear me ! how excruciating to one's auricular organs 
to hear such ungrammatical language ! Don't you know it is 
not proper to say '* be you V " 

1776. Yes, there you go ag'in. Sich talkin' ! Why, half the 
time I don't know what new-fangled tongue people's got. 
Somebody says to me, *' When did you arrive ? " I didn't arrive 
at all; I come. Why couldn't they ask me straight ? ''How is 
your marm ? " I asked a child one day. " Well, she's con- 
valescing." *' Conva — what? dear me ! is it ketchin' ? " says 
I. Do you think the woman was just a-gittin' well, a:id that 
child didn't know how to teil it. ''Where's your dad?" I 
asked the 'potecary's boy. "He's engaged i i a consultation, 
ma'am." Land alive ! didn't I pity the poor critter that had 
to have that done to him! And after all he only meant his 
father was a-talkin' to another man. 

1876. You seem to be entirely oblivious to the extraordinary 
progress of the age. Philology has become a popular science, 
and language improves proportionately, 

1776. Dear suz ! don't it kinder make your mouth ache to 
say all that ? I don't kalkerlate on understandin' it, no mor'n 
I do that thing the lipchtnin' travels on. 

1876. The telegrapb, I presume you refer to. 



104 SCHOOL ''EXHIBITION'S." 

1776. The tell-a-lie'd be nearer it. Maybe I'll give in you've 
got some new tilings ; but no airthly power will ever make me 
believe a body at one end of a string can hear what's said at 
t'other, three miles off. 

1876. I think you don't understand the principle. 

1776. No, there can't be no principle to people who go on 
so. Why, when I was a gal I had my picter painted. It 
took a man three weeks, and used a power of paint ; and 
here to-day some onprincipled fellow told me to set dov^n, 
and he'd do my likeness in five minutes, and never do a livin' 
thing himself but walk round the room with a watch in his 
hand. 

1876. Did you comply w^ih his request ? 

1776. Comi3ly ! I guess I didn't. I jest sot right down and 
waited till be'd fixed up a little brass cannon and p'inted it at 
me, and then I left. I said I'd be shot if I stayed. 

1876. Excuse me, but we call such expresbions as that, 
** slang." 

1776. Slang! I didn't say ''slang," I said *'shot," and 
meant it too. I allers say what I mean. I never put on airs. 
Some cf the gals in my time, when they was goin' out to tea, 
used to think it was pretty to lisp ; so they'd keep say in' 
" thof t-thoap, thof t-thoap, " to get their tongues right ; but I 
didn't ; I never soft-soaped anybody, to my knowin'. 

1876. Then you couldn't have taken much interest in the 
political partisans of the day, or you would have found abun- 
dant need of saponaceous literature. 

1776. My ! that's poetry, isn't it ? I can't say I ever took to 
that. I tried once to make a verse, and the first line ended 
with pilgrim. I tried four wrecks to find a rhyme, and could- 
n't think of anything but Uncle Jim, and I didn't w^ant him, 
so I had to give it up. 

1876. Women were not so universall}^ blue-stockings then as 
now ? 

1776. Well, no ; we wore gray, mostly — sometimes white on 
Sundays. 

1876. I mean, women did not write, as they do now-a-days. 



SCHOOL "exittbittoits." 105 

1776. Well, I donno ; there's a crfference in hands. Mostly 
they could write their names prett}^ fair. 

•1876. Dear me ! there's no j^uch thing as making such an an- 
tediluvian petrification understand. I mean, women did not 
compose bouks and have them publislicd, as they do now. 

1776. Laws! I guess tlicy'd been put in the pillory for any- 
thing half so disgraceful. Why, our minister writ a book. 
'Twasthe greatest thing ! You c )uLln't sense a bit of it ; and 
I guess no woman would a dared say she was equal to that in 
them days. 

1876. Man's fancied superiority, I am happy to say, is giv- 
ing way before vf Oman's assertion of equal rights. 

1776. Equal rights ! Why, I ])elieve in that. I believe a 
woman has just as good a right to be a woman as a man has 
to be a man. I believe a woman has just as much right to 
mind her Bible and obey her husband, as he has to mind his 
and honor her. I don't see what more you want. 

1876. More ! Pretty equal r'ghts that would be ! But 
with your old-fashioned notions you cannot be expected to un- 
derstand the strides of an age that has ''progress" written on 
its banners, and claims for woman just the same privileges it 
does for man. 

1776. Oh! that's what it means, is it ? I saw an old flag, 
as I came along, with "Woman's Rights" and "Woman's 
Votes" on it, but I thought it was some new kind of riggin' 
they had to sell. I didn't s'pose it meant womankind votin'. 

1876. Well, it d>d mean just that. If a woman hasn't as 
good a right to vote as a man, I'd like to know the reason. 

1776. Should you, dear ? I'm sorry I can't tell you ; but 
this 'ere progress is gcttin' too nmch for my head, altogether. 
I dunno any reason *cept it would take an awful time to git 
thi ough votin' when 'lection day comes. 

1876. I don't know why it should. 

1776. Why, you see, a woman would want her say first — 
'twouldn't be havin' her rights if she didn't — so lie would have 
to stay at home and take care of things, while she went to the 
pol-s Then he would just run in.o the nei^^hbors for a mLnit — 



106 SCHOOL "exhibitions/' 

that's half a day, you know. When his wife comes home and 
his turn comes, he would go to argufyin' about the nashunal 
debt, and that would be sure to take another half a day. 
Then Bridget would be goin' on like old Ireland, 'cause she's 
got to wait till next day for her chance. Why, there would 
be no kalkerlatin' when they ever would get through volin'. 

1876. There is no need of worrying about that. Of course 
there will be some improved method of casting votes devised, 
when the ladies take hold of it. 

1776. I s'pose so. Some patent fixin', like enough runnin' 
round pickin' up votes by steam. It won't have my breath 
to take away, though. 

1876. Oh! you belong to a slow age ! How glad I am I did- 
n't live in 1776 ! 

1776. Bless you, dear ! I hope you'll enjoy your rights. 
What a mercy it is I wasn't born in 1876. 
1876 makes a new-style how, and 1776 an old-fashioned courtesy. 

CUKTAIN. 



A recitation by , entitled "The Song of 1876." A 

Festival Poem written for the German Centennial Singers' Un- 
ion of New York, by Bayard Taylor. 

Waken, voice of the Land's Devotion ! 

Spirit of freedom, awaken all ! 
Ring, ye shores, to the Song of the Ocean, 
Rivers answer, and mountains call ! 
The golden day has come. 
Let every tongue be dumb, 
That sounded its malice or murmured its fears ; 
She hath won her story, 
She wears her glory. 
We crown her the Land of a Hundred Years I 
Out of darkness, and toil, and danger, 

Into the light of Victory's day, 
Help to Ihe weak, and home to the stranger, 
Freedom to all, she held her way. 



SCHOOL ''EXHIBITIONS." 107 

Now Europe's orphans rest 
Upon her mother-breast : 
L The voices of Nations are heard in the cheers 

F That shall cast upon her 

New love and honor ; 
And crown her the Queen of a Hundred Years 1 
North and South, we meet as brothers ; 

East and West, we are wedded as one ! 
Right of each shall secure our mothers ; 
Child of each is her faithful son ! 

We give Thee heart and hand, 
Our glorious native Land. 
For battle has tried thee, and time endears ; 
We will write thy story, 
And keep thy glory 
As pure as of old for a Thousand Years ! 
Durivff the above recitation, preparations should be made for the 
next performance. 



We now call your attention to a tableau, with music, en- 
titled '* Woman's Work, One Hundred Years Ago." 

This 'piece has been found to give much satisfacti/)n. On the 
stage slwuld be arrange I a liaen wJieel, woolen wlieel, quill 
wheel and swifts, reel, skarn, cards, hatchel and as many 
other such oldfashioned machines as can be collected ; at 
which should be seated a number of young ladies, dressed in 
the costumes of the women of one hundred years ago, who 
should be industriously working thef^e machines, the use of 
which can easily be learned, and at tlie same time one or all 
should sing the following song : 

Music from the ** Juvenilo Singing Book." published in 1844. 



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SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS. 



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They pulkd the flax and when decayed 

They hatchclcd it, just so ; 
They washed the wool, the rolls they made. 

As we are making now . 
One hundred years ago, my friends, 

One hundred years ago, 
They carded wool and hatcheled flax. 

One hundred years ago. 

From morn till night, they spun the wool 

Upon just such a wheel ; 
. And when the spindle's shaft was full. 

They wound it on a reel. 
One hundred years ago, my friends. 

One hundred years ago. 
They spun and wove and made their cloth. 

One hundred }'ears ago. 



The attention of the audience is now invited to eight scenes 
from a Iiistorical drama. Between the fifth and sixth scenes 
there will be a song entitled '' The Boston Tea-Party." 

These scenes were selected from a long Iiistorical drama, puhlislied 
man J years since ; the name of the author being unknown to 
tlie compiler. The whole drama could not well he acted. 
Many changes have been made in the parts selected. No an- 
7iouncements should be made between the scenes or before the 
song. 



110 SCHOOL ''EXHIBITIONS." 

Characters. — George, James, Boys, Sentinel, withmuslcei. 
Gen. Gage, Aide, Sergeant and Soldiers, Captain 
Jumper, Major Pitcairn, Mr. Baker, Mrs. Baker, 
Mary, Trify, Joshua, Levi, Mrs. Niles, Sally, Mrs. 
Brown, Mrs. Hill. 

Scene 1.— Boston Common. A crowd of boys dressed in winter 
clothing, with skates over their shoulders, assembled near the 
skativg pond, which may be represented on the flat at back oj 
stage. 

George. Here it is again, boys. The ice is all broken in by 
the red-coats. We shall have no fun to-day. 

James. I wish we were not boys. If I were big enough to 
carry a sword and a musket, I would drive 'em out of the land 
fa. t enough. 

George. And what if we are boys ? I, for one, have no mind 
to bear tliis treatment any longer. 

All. Right, George, right ! 

James. But what can we do, boys ? 

George. I'll tell you. Form a line of march, and with drum 
and fife and colors, wait upon Gen. Gage, at his tent , and tell 
him we will not be insulted by British soldiers, or any other 
soldiers. 

All. Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! {theg go off. A short pause 
and then they shout again, outside) Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah I 

Scene II. — Gen. Gage's Headquarters. A sentinel pacing the 
platform with a musket oxer his shoulder. Noise of fife and 
drum at distance. 

Sentinel. What in the name of wonder can that be ? Are 
they up in arms again in this rascally town ? A troop of boys, 
as I live, with an Indian painted on their flag, and no sign of 
the English Cross I Oh ! the land is full of rebellion. It is 
full of it, and running over. {}he boys enter, halt, and George 
approaches the sentinel, carrying tlie standard in his hand, and 
maJccs a military salute. Tlie boys should be taught to do all this 
in military style.) 



I 



SCHOOL "exhibitions." Ill 

George, Is Gen. Gage at home ? 

Sentinel. Who are you ? 

George. We are Boston boys, sir. 

Sentinel. What do you want here ? 

George. We come for our rights ; and we wish to speak to 
the British general. 

Sentinel. The British general has better business than listen- 
ing to a parcel of ragamuffin little rebels. I shall do none of 
your messages. 

George. As yow. please, sir ; but here we wait till we see 
Gen. Gage. We will see him, and he shall do us justice. 

All. Hurrah ! hurrah I hurrah ! 

Sentinel. That, you little rascals, would be to hang you and 
your cowardly countrymen. I suppose you are making all 
this fuss about that little dirty pond on the Common, that don't, 
at the best, ho'd water enough to fill a sizable Dutch milk-pan. 

All. Cowards, do you call us ? Say it again if you dare I 
(Gen. Gage and one of Ids aides enter from the opposite door.) 

Gen. Gage. What is the matter here ? Why is this disturb- 
ance ? {tlie hoys advance and make the military salute.) 

George. Gen. Gage, we come to complain of the insults and 
outrages of your soldiers. They break our kite strings, ruin 
our skating pond, and steal our drums from us. We have 
spoken more than once, to no purpose, and now we have come 
to sa3% that we cannot, and we will not endure it any longer. 

Gen. Gage {aside to his aide). Good heavens ! liberty is in 
the very air, and the boys breathe it. {to the hoys) Go, my brave 
lads ; you have the word of Gen. Gage that your sports shall 
never be disturbed again, without punishment to the offender. 
Does that satisfy you ? 

George. Yes, Gen. Gage, and in the name of my country I 
present you thanks. 

Gen. Gage. No thanks; j^ou are brave boys, 3^ou are English 
boys ; I see plainl}', you are English boys. 

All. No, sir, Yankees— Yankees — Yankee boys, sir. Hurrah ! 
hurrah 1 hurrah ! {the drums strike up and the little hand march 
off with flying colors.) 

CURTAIN. 



112 SCHOOL ''e::kii:it:c::s." 

ScEis^E III. — An old-fasliioned Idtclien in ]*UE.BAKES,'s/czr??z-7/^'js6 
in Lexington. JVIns. Bakei; and lit^r two daagliiers, 2*Iary 
and TiEOFY ^ picking ccer foxherry leaves. Any amaU ffreen 
leaves witl answer the purpoce. The mother and her Caugh- 
fers should be dressed in the costume of a hundred ye^irs ago. 
If preferred, the oldfashioned expressions used in these scenes 
can be modernized. 

Hilary. IVrother, what do we have to drink foxberrj tea all 
the time for ? We haven't had any boughten tea this great 
while. 

Mrs. Baker. Why, Mary, England i3 trying to make the 
people of the colonies pay a part of her debts. For this reason, 
Parliament has put a tax on boughten tea, and the committee 
down to Boston say we mustn't buy any more till the tux is 
took olf again. You must ask your father to explain it more 
fully to you, this evening. 

Mary. Well, won't the committee let us drink anything but 
foxberry ? I'm tired to death of foxberry ; we hain't had any- 
thing else to drink all winter. 

Mrs. B. Why, yes, child, the committee will let us drink 
anything we can make or pick up, except boughten tea ; tJtat 
the Parliament has put a tax on. If we buy an ounce of 
boughten tea, we shall be liable to be published in the papers 
as traitors to our country. 

Mary. Mother, what dor s it all mean about traitors to our 
country ? When I was coming home from the woods this 
afternoon, bringing these foxberry leaves, Mr. Jones sot on 
his horse by the side of the road talking with Mr. Brown. He 
said he had just come home from Boston, and there was more 
trouble down there. He said we luid more to fear frord trait- 
ors among ourselves than we had from anything Parliament 
can do. What does it all mean al;out traitors ? 

Mrs. B. Well, child. Parliament is determined to make the 
people of these colonies pay a part of England's debts. They 
claim tlie right to tax us just as they choose. Now most of 
tUe great and good pien of our country declare that England 



SCHOOL "exhibitions." 113 

has no right to tax us ; Liit there are a few persons who do 
not seem to care for the best good of these colonies, and there- 
fore "they take sides with Parliament. Such men are called 
traitors. I wish you'd see if the tea-kettle boils. (Mary steps 
to one side a moment and then returns.) 

Mary. The foxbei'ry kettle is boiling ; you know there is no 
such thing as a tea kettle n >w days. 

3Irs. B. Well, then, yon just step to the door and see if 
your father is coming. (Mary goes to the door.) 

Mary. He is just coming over the hill. 

Mrs. B. Well, then, blow the horn {or conch-shell as the case 
may he) for Joshua and Levi to come in from the field, so we 
can all have supper together. (Mary takes dozen a tin horn, or 
a conch-shell, which hangs rxar the door, and blows it as long and 
loud'y as possible) There, there, Mary ; do, for pity sake, save 
some of your breath ; it may be wanted another time. We 
don't want to call the whole neighborhood together, and one 
half that noi^e is enough to call the boys home. 

Mary (lianging np horn). I want 'em to come quick, so as to 
get here as soon as father docs. 

Mrs, B. Now put on your sun-bonnet, Trify, and run over 
to Mr. Niles' and get the newspaper they borrowed this morn- 
ing, for your father will want to read it after supper. 

Trify. Yes, ma'am, 

Enter Mr. Baker, Joshua and Levi, with hoes over their 
shoulders and their sleexes rolled up. 

Mrs. B. Well, Mr. Baker, what is the news in Boston ? 

Mr. Baker. Bad news, bad news enough. You must make 
much of your foxberry leaves, for it'll be a long time, I guess, 
before we shall have anything to do with India tea again. 

Mrs. B. Why, what has happened ? Is there any bad news 
from home ? 

Mr. B. Don't call England home any longer. She was the 
home of our fathers and mothei s, but she is no longer worthy 
of that title. 

Mrs. B. Why, what is the matter, Mr. Baker ? 



114 SCHOOL ''exhibitions.' 



i col-^' 



Jfr. B. Parliament is trying to make the people of these 
onifcS to become hewers of wood and drawers of water to sup- 
port the English in their idleness at home. But let them go on, 
let them try their worst ; they'll find out before they get through 
that the people of these colonies were not made to be slaves. 

Mrs. B. Why, what is it, husband ? Do let us know the 
worst of it. 

Mr, B. They have passed an act to shut up the harbor of 
Boston, and stop all vessels from going in or out there to 
trade. The first day of next month the harbor is to be closed. 

Mrs. B. Oh, that will make dreadful work. Plow will the 
people live ? 

M7\ B. Live ? they can't live ; it'll be the same as shutting 
them up to starve to death. They can't hve there if their trade 
is stopped. They must aU suffer and die in a heap, or leave 
the place. Some of them are for giving right up, and letting 
Parliament have their own way, if they'll only let their trade 
go on. But most of thtm say ^i6>— they'll die first. 

Joshua. "Well, I hope they'll stick to that ; I do. I hope 
they'll resist the act of Parliament to the bat's end. I'm ready, 
for one, to go and help 'em fight it out. 

Trify enters in haste. 

Trify. Oh, mother, Mr. ISTiles has just come home and he 
says Boston is ail in an uproar. He is going right back in the 
morning, and Miss Niles says she shall be awful lonesome. 
She wants you to come over to morrow and spend the after- 
noon with her. Here's the paper. 

Mrs. B. Well, I guess I shan't go. 

ifr. B. Why not ? You always used to be very fond of go- 
ing to see Miss Niles. What's turned up now ? 

Mrs. B. AVell, nothing that I care to speak of, only I don't 
feel as if I cared much r.bout seeing h r. (Mr. Bakkh casts a 
scrutinizing glance at Trify, and then again at his w^'fe.) 

Mr. B. Well, now, mother, I know something has happened, 
just as well as can be, and I insist upon knowing what's broke 
out between you and Miss Niles. 



f 



SCHOOL ''EXHIBITIONS." 115 

Mrs. B. It is nothing at all in the world, only I strongly sus- 
pect Miss Mies drinks boughtcn tea ; and if I knew she did, 
I'd never set my foot inside her house again. 

Mr. B. Oh, ifithat's the case, it's so much the stronger rea- 
son why you ought to go and see her, and find out the truth 
about it. If it's a fact that she drinks India tea, it is our duty 
to report her to the committee, and let them make an example 
of her. But what makes you think she drinks boughten tea ? 

Mrs. B. Why, the last two times I was there, I smelt bough- 
ten tea, if ever I smelt it in my life. They was just done sup- 
per ; and says I, Miss Mies, what do you drink for tea now ? 
She colored a little, and says she, some of us drink sage, and 
some of us drink foxberry ; but I could smell the boughten 
tea then, and it made me long for it so much I could scarcely 
sit in my chair. 

Mr. B. Well, you could hardly hang a peirson upon such 
evidence as that. Your imagination might done one-half. 

Mrs. B. It's no such thing, Mr. Barker. You can't deceive 
me in the smell of boughten tea ; I love it too well for that. I 
have even better evidence than that, if I choose to give it. 
Last week, when Parson Brown and his wife spent the after- 
noon here, I sent over to Miss Niles' and borrowed her block- 
tin teapot, because mine was broken. When I came to rinse 
it out, if you'll believe it, I found in it a fair leaf of India tea ! 
Trify saw it, too, so you see I have plenty of evidence. 

Mr. B, Could you take an oath, Trify, that it was India 
tea? 

Trify. Yes, sir ; I know 'twas, for I smelt it and tasted it, 
too. 

Mr&. B. I didn't feel just right, then, but Miss Mies has al- 
ways been a good neighbor and I like her right well, so I 
thought I'd wait a while and say nothing ; but now, when I 
hear such bad news, I can't help feeling that every traitor, 
even though she be a woman, ought to be reported to the com- 
mittee. 

Mr. B. That's right ; now you talk like a Baker. There's 
true patriotism for you. Now, I'd be sure and go over and 



116 SCHOOL ''exhibitions." 

spend the afternoon with Miss Niles, and see if you can find 
out the truth about the matter. Take Miss Brown and Miss 
Hill with you, for you must have evidence of the fact. Now, 
let's eat supper, for I am very tired and I musl^e off early in 
the morning. 

CURTAIN. 

Scene IY. — Kitchen of Mr. Niles' farm house in Lexington. 
Mr. Niles' daughter Sally is arranging dishes on tlw 
shelf or dresser. There, is a knock at the door, which is an- 
swered hy Sally. 

Enter Mrs. Baker, Mrs. Brown and Mrs. Hill. 

Sally. Good afternoon, ladies ; walk in, if you please, 
Mrs. B. Well, Sally, how do you do ? Is your ma at home? 
Sally. Yes, ma'am ; she's only just gone to the barn for some 
eggs. Take seats, and I'll go and call her. (Sally leaves the 
room. The ladies take a survey of the kitchen. There are dishes 
and other articles standing on the shelf. Mrs. Baker goes to 
the dresser, takes down the block-tin teapot, opens it, looks into it, 
smells of it, and tips it up to see if she can drain any tea out of it. 
She then looks into it again more scrutinizingly than at first, and 
finally puts in one of her fingers and draws out two or three tea 
leaves. She beckons to Mrs. Brown and Mrs. Hill, lolio both 
go to the shelf, Mrs. Baker shows them the leaves and asks 
them to smell of the teapot. They all express, by their looks, great 
astonishment, and raise their hands in horror. Mrs. Baker 
takes the leaves and ties them in the corner of her handkerchief. 
Just here, there is a noise, and the ladies hurry back, on tiptoe, to 
their seats. 

Enter Mrs. Niles. 

Mrs. Niles. Wall, Miss Baker, I'm dreadful glad to see you, 
and you, too, ladies. Take your things right off. (Mrs. Niles 
talces the things and hangs them on nails in the room, talking as 
she does so) You don't know how lonesome this news from Bos- 
ton makes me feel. Mr. Niles went away about suniise, and 
this day has seemed a week long. These are dreadful times, 



SCnOOl. ''EXHIBITIONS." 117 

Miss Baker, ain't they ? What do you think will become of 
us ? {the woman take out their knitting and begin to work.) 

Mrs, B, I don't know, Mrs. Niles, we are in an awful situa- 
tion ; but I'm afraid things will be worse before they are better. 
I don't think the colonies will ever give up to Parliament, and 
let them tax us and make slaves of us just as they are a mind 
to ; and I hope they never will give up, let what vdll come. 
For my part, I had rather wear home-made gowns and drink 
foxberry tea as long as I live, than to have my children brought 
uuder the yoke of bondage to Parliament. 

Mrs. Brown. I think just so, too, Mrs. Baker. 

Mrs. Hill. And so do I. Give me foxberry tea and home 
made gowns, and a free country. What do you say. Miss 

Niles ? 

Mrs. ]^. Wall, as for home-made gowns, I had just as lief 
wear 'em as not, or anything else the committee chooses to 
tell me to wear ; but I must confess, it is a dreadful trial for me 
to do without tea. There is such a comfort in a good strong 
dish of shushong, that I do really wish the committee would 
take off the restriction on it. {the ladies cast significant glances 
at each oilier.) 

Mrs. n. To be sure there's a good deal of comfort in a good 
strong dish of shushong ; but I wouldn't commit such a sin as 
to drink it for the sake of a little comfort . 

Mrs, N. Wall, if you'll excuse me, ladies, PU look after my 
supper a little. (Mrs. Niles leaves the room.) 

Mrs. H. There, ain't she guilty ? Didn't you see how she 
colored ? Such a hankerin' as that, after tea, can't be innocent, 
I know. Oh, she's jest as guilty as she can be ! It's jest what 
I feared of Miss Nilcs. 

Mrs. B. Well, I'm sorry that one of our neighbors, that I 
have always thought well of, should be so disgraced. But we 
must do our duty, let what will come. 

Mrs, H, Oh I certainly, certainly, without favor or affec- 
tion. 

CURTAIN. 



118 SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS." 

Scene V. — The table is setfm^ tea. There are very old-fashioned 

dishes. On the table are cheese, butter, biscuit, etc, 

Mrs. W. Come, ladies, supper is all ready. Take your seats 
to the table, {each lady takes her own chair and brings it to iJie 
table) Come, set right down. (Mrs. Niles passes the biscuit) 
Now help yourselves, and make yourselves to home, won't 
you ? {they help themselves to butter and cheese. Mrs . Niles, 
m tJie meantime, pours out a cup of tea and passes to each.) 

Mrs. Brown {slie divides a biscuit and begins to eat it). Well, 
there, Miss Kiles, how is it you make your biscuit so nice ? It 
seems to me they are the nicest I ever saw. 

Mrs. H. They are beautiful, perfectly beautiful. Miss Niles 
always has the best of everything. 

Mrs. B. {she helps herself again to butter). Well, I'll say that 
for Miss Niles, she has the best butter and cheese of anybody 
in the neighborhood. 

Mrs. N. Now, come, ladies, less compliments and more eat- 
ing. Take hold and help yourselves, won't you ? {while Mrs. 
Baker and Mrs. Niles are speaking, Mrs. Brown and Mrs. 
Hill have taken one or two drinks of tea. Mrs. Baker ?i<?ic 
raises her cup halfway to her mouth, when she suddenly stops, 
looks at itfoi' a moment, and returns it to the table. Mrs. Brown 
and Mrs. Hill each take another drink, deeper and more scru- 
tinizingly than the others.) 

Mrs. Brown. Why, this isn't foxberry, nor sage neither, if 
I've got any taste. 

Mrs. H. Well, so it seems to me. (Mrs. Hill and Mrs. 
Brown drain tlieir cups,) , 

Mrs. Brown. Now, Miss Niles, you haven't been giving us 
boughten tea, have you ? 

Mrs. Boker. I shouldn't think you would need to ask after 
drinking a whole cupful. For my part, I could tell it clear 
across the room by the smell. 

Mrs. N. Well, to tell the truth, it is as good a dish of shu- 
shong as I could make, {the ladies oM push back their cups with 
an expression of horror.) 






SCHOOL ** EXHIBITIONS." 119 



Mrs. Brown, I shan't cross my conscience, Miss Niles, by 
drinking your bougbten tea. I love my country too well for 
that, and have too much respect for the committee. 

Mrs, N, Oh, now, Miss Brown, you might just as well be 
hung for an old sheep as for a lamb. You've drinked one cup, 
now let me pour you out another. 

Mrs. Brown, No, I shan't touch a drop of it. 

Mrs. H. Nor I neither ; I'd just as soon drink poison. 

Mrs. B, Well, Miss Niles, I'm perfectly astonished, and I'm 
sorry for you, too. How do you dare to break over the rules 
of the committee in this way ? You'll be published in the pa- 
pers as a traitor to the cause of our country, just as sure as you 
are alive. 

Mrs. N, {very calmly). I don't think so. 

Mrs. B, Oh, you certainly will, there's no help for it. 

Mrs, Brown, Yes, you certainly will, Miss Niles, you'll be 
published as a traitor. 

Mrs, H, Oh, Miss Niles, you've ruined yourself ! If nobody 
else complains of you, I shall feel it my duty to go to the com- 
mittee myself about it. 

Mrs. N. Wall, I'm not afraid of any trouble about it. 

Mrs, B. Why not ? I think it's high time you was afraid of 
it. 

Mrs, N, Because I haven't broke any of the rules of the 
committee, not one of them. We had ten pounds of this tea 
in the house. I'm very much obliged to you, ladies, for com- 
ing here to teach me patriotism ; but I should like to see the 
woman, or man either, who would go further, or suffer more 
than I would, for the good of my country. I would not only 
go without tea, when it would do any good, but without 
bread, too. Yes, I would live on one potato a day, and work 
day and night while my strength lasted, before I'd have the 
colonies give up to Parliament, and kt 'em tax us, and take 
away just what they have a mind to from us. 

Mrs, B. Well done, Miss Niles, how glad I be to hear j^ou 
talk so I I am so glad you have not broken any of the rules 
of the comn^iittee. 



120 SCHOOL "exhibitigxs." 

3Irs. 11. I've no idea of buying any more tea till our troublts 
with Parliament are settled, cr liil the cjmmittej takes oil tlu 
restriction. But as we Lave this i i the house, Tve may as well 
drink it once in a while, and take the comfort of it and give a 
cup to our friends w^ben they come to see us, as to let it lie in 
tbc cupboard and lose its strength, and all be wasted. So, 
now ladies, just drink your tea and take the comfort of it. 
Como, I^Iiss Hill, I know yoii like a good cup of tea, so just 
pass over your cup and let me fill it again. 

Mi's. II. Thank you, Miss Mies, so I will gladly. I dearly 
love India tea, and that first cup just makes me hanker after 
some more, she jyosses over her cup . ) 

Ill's. ]^. Kow, Miss Brown, I know you'd like another cup 
of tea, so just pass over your cup. 

3Irs. Broicn. You are right, Mrs. Niles ; I never refuse 
bought en tea when I can drink it lawfully, {she passes her cup. 
The ladies continue to eat and drink.) 

Mrs, B. This is a delicious cup of tea. I don't think I ever 
tasted a better cup in my life. Perhaps it is because I haven't 
drinked any for so long that makes it taste so good. Why, 
I don't feel as if I could be satisfied, {she drains the last drop 
from her cup.) 

Mrs. N. Wall, now. Miss Baker, there's plenty of tea, and I 
do hope you'll drink all you want. Pass your cup right over. 
(Mrs. Baker passes her cup) 

Mrs. B. You don't know what a treat this is, Miss Xiles. 

Mrs. II. This tea is perfectly delightful. I don't know when 
I've tasted anything so good. Miss Niles, excuse me for tak- 
ing another cup. {passes her cup.) 

Mrs. N. Oh, no excuse ; I hope you'll take half a dozen 
yet. 

Mrs. H. Well, I could take a dozen, I really believe. 

Mrs . Brown. So could I ; but we mustn't wear our welcome 
out, nor drink it up, for I shall want to come again before long 
and get another cup of Miss Niles' good shushong. 

Mrs. N. Wall, I hope you will, all of you. I shall be glad 
to make a cup of tea for you at any time. If you hear any- 



SCHOOL "exhibitions." 



121 



thing from Boston, Miss Baker, be sure and let me know; 
won't you ? 
Mrs, B. Yes, certainly, and you must do the same. 



CURTAIN. 



If possible, the audience should not be compelled to wait at all be- 
tween any of the scenes. Betioeen tliese scenes, while the stage 
is being cleared, etc., a Utile boy or girl, or a class of either 
should pass in front of the curtain and sing " The Boston 
Tea- Party Song.'' This song need not be announced, uiiless 
it is preferred to do so. 

From " The Singing Bird," by per. of Ivison, Blakeman, Taylor & Co. 



1. Near the beauteous Bos 



w - 
ton, 



—9~ 



-N- 



— ^ — ^ — ^_ 



On the gen - tie swell-ing flood, With-oiit Jack or 



ijszzz : 



1:^ 



pen-nant fly 






-0-^ — #- 



The ill - fa - ted tea-ship stood; 

--> Sr i: — S!— ***' ^ ' ^H 



i'-^'i* 



Just as o'lorious Sol was set-tmo', On the wharf a 



-y- 



-y- 



=F= 



— P- 

& — -5- 






-0— 



numerous crew, Sons of free-dom fear for - get - thig, 



# 1 : ^ ^ .-^ I 0. 

I ^^ ^ 1 -L- l; y ^ 1^ 1 



bud-den - ly appeared in view; Sons of free-dom, 



123 



SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS. 



I N- 



' — y-'=-a--&;- 



1 



fear for - get - ting, Sud - den - ly appeared in view. 

Armed with hammers, axes, chisels, 

Weapons new for warlike deeds, 
Towards the herbage-freighted vessel 

They approached with dreadful speed. 
O'er their heads, aloft in mid-sky, 

Three bright angel forms were seen, 
This was Hampton, that was Sidney, 

With fair Liberty between; 
This was Hampton, that was Sidney, 

With fair Liberty between. 

Soon, they cried, your foes you'll banish. 

Soon the triumph shall be won ; 
Scarce did setting Phoebus vanish, 

Ere the deathless deed was done. 
Quick as thought the ship was boarded. 

Hatches burst, and chests displayed. 
Axes, hammers, help afforded. 

What a glorious crash they made I 
Axes, hammers, help afforded. 

What a glorious crash they made 1 

Quick into the deep descended 

That foul weed of China's coast ; 
Thus at once our fears were ended ; 

Freeman's rights will ne'er be lost. 
Captains, once more hoist your streamers. 

Spread your sails, and plough the wave. 
Tell your masters they were dreamers. 

When they thought to cheat the brave ; 
Tell your masters they were dreamers, 

When they thought to cheat the brave. 






SCHOOL *' EXHIBITIONS." 133 

Scene VI. — Interior ^Gen. Gage's headquarters in Boston. 
Gen. Gage is pacing the room with a restless air. 

Enter Major Pitcairn. 

Gen. Gage. Well, Major Pitcairn, how beats the public 
pulse ? Are these rebels going to show their teeth at us ? 

Pitcairn. Well, Gen. Gage, I hardly know what to expect. 
There's a surly spirit among them that augurs anything but 
good. 

Gen. Gage. What's all this bustle about a town meeting to- 
day ? Do you know what sort of a meeting they have had, 
and what they have done ? 

Pit. Yes, I went in and watched their movements awhile. 
They had a very large meeting, and ihey seemed to be very 
stiff-necked, I assure you. 

Gen. Gage. Stiff-necked, are they ? They must mind what 
they are about, or I'll give some of them limber necks before 
long ; they may depend upon that. But what did they do ? 

Pit. They passed a resolve, '' that the impolicy, injustice, 
inhumanity, and cruelty of the Boston Port Bill exceed all 
their powers of expression, and therefore they leave it to the 
censure of others, and appeal to God and the world." 

Gen. Gage. Well, they may appeal as much as they choose, 
but they've got to toe the mark, and walk straight ; and if 
they lift a finger against the port bill or any other act of Par- 
liament, I'll teach them what it is to have a master. Did they 
do anything else ? 

Pit. They also passed a resolution that the colonies ought to 
'* stop all importations from, and exportations to Great Brit- 
ain, which would prove the salvation of North America and 
her liberties." 

Gen. Gage. That is what we have the most reason to fear ; 
a concert of action among the colonies in their rebellious move- 
ments. If they unite in their operations, it will give us some 
trouble to put them down. We must guard against that by 
every means in our power ; and we must try to sow discord 
and rivalry among the people of this province. Get them to 



124 SCHOOL ''EXHIBITIONS.*' 

quarreling among themselves ; that's the way to use them 
up. 

Pit. But, Gen. Gage, how can we do this ? There seems to 
be a general spirit of union among them, as far as I can 
learn. 

Gen. Gage. By transferring the trade of Boston to Salem, 
Marblebead, and other towns, we shall be likely to buy over 
the good ^\ill of those towns, and create rivalry and animosity 
between them and Boston. Even in Boston, we must try, by 
some means, to bring over some of their leaders to our side. 
If we can do that, the whole thing will float away at once, and 
we shall have no more trouble. 

CUKTAIN. 

Scene YII. — Headquarters of Gen. Gage. The general wriiing 
at a table. Major Pitcairn reading. Sound outside of 
some one singing '' Yankee Doodle.'' The music seems to 
come nearer and nearer ^ hut the singer does not come in sight. 
The words seem to attract the attention of Major Pitcairn 
first, hut finally Gen. Gage throios down his pen and strides 
the room in anger. Some of the verses might he omitted if it 
was thought hest. 

To these old woods, long years ago, 

A brawny youth came over. 
And cleared him up a clever farm. 
And sowed it down to clover. 

Yankeedoodle, keep it up, etc. 
This youth — some called him Jonathan — 

He came from o'er the sea, sir; 

His Uncle George an Inland owned. 

And a rich old man was he, sir. 

Yankeedoodle, keep it up, etc. 
Now Jonathan picked up his crumbs. 

And prospering in his labors, 
Bid fair to make as smart a man 
As any of his neighbors. 

Yankeedoodle, keep it up, etc. 



SCHOOL ''exhibitions.'* 125 

His farm was rich, aud long enough, 

And wide enough to boot, sir ; 
His sons had land enough to till. 

And room enough to shoot, sir. 

Yankeedoodle, keep it up, etc. 

He kept his sheep in pastures wide, 
His cows in pastures wider. 
His orchards made a master sight 
OY apple-sass and cider. 

Yankeedoodle, keep it up, etc 

When Uncle George beheld his thrift. 

He swore it was no sin, sir. 
To rob of half his earnings, one 

That was so near akin, sir. 

Yankeedoodle, keep 't up, etc. 

And so he left his island home. 

And cross'd the mighty water, 
To rob the farm of Jonathan, 

Which, sure, he hadn't ought to. 

Yankeedoodle, keep it up, etc. 

But Jonathan, he called his boys. 

Who mustered thick as hops, sir. 
And shook their fists at Uncle Bull, 

And slapped the old man's chops, sir. 

Yankeedoodle, keep it up, etc. 

Gen. Gage {wry angry). I tell you, Major Pitcairn, we've 
got to deal vigorously with these rebels. Half way measures 
wiil not do ; they are becoming extremely audacious. Con- 
found these Yankees, they are all alike. 

Pit. I agree with your Excellency, entirely ; and the sooner 
a tight rein is drawn over them, in my opinion, the better. 
{^ound of shouting outdde in the didance and a great noise in the 
street, which gradually approaches nearer and nearer . Pitcairn 
goes to the door and looks out.) 



126 BCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS." 

Pit. Hullo, here's a disturbance in the street. Here comes 
some of our soldiers bringing a prisoner. 

Gen. Gage. What's the matter now, I wonder. 

Enter a sergeant and four soldiers, in red coats, bringing in a 

Marhlehead fislierman, two holding each arm. The man is 

still struggling andfghting. 

Sergeant. Gen. Gage, here's a fellow we have taken for at- > 

tempting to evade the port bill, and for assaulting his Majesty's 

soldiers when on duty. What shall be done with him ? 

Fisherman. It's a lie. I didn't 'sault the sojers ; they 'saulted 

me. 

Gen. Gage. Come, fellow, none of this rudeness. 

Fisherman {gives a woljishlook at Gen. Gage). I ain't a feller, 

sir. 

Gen. Gage. Well, who are you ? Give an account of your- 
self. 

Fisherman. Who be I ? You go down to Marhlehead and 

ax the first person you see, and I guess you'll find out. 

Gen. Gage. Come, come, fellow, this won't 

Fisherman. Didn't I tell ye I ain't a feller ? 

Gen. Gage. No matter what you are, you will be sent to 
prison immediately , unless you behave yourself with more pro- 
priety. WJio are you ? What is your name ? 

Fisherman. What's my name ? Why Captain Jumper, or 
Skipper Jumper, which ever you mind to call it. 

Gen. Gage. Captain Jumper ? A captain ? Captain of 
what, pray ? 

Fisherman. I'm Captain Jumper of the Two Follies. You 
ax anybody in Marhlehead if you want to know. If you don't 
beheve them, ax any of the codfish along shore, or on the 
banks; they all know me from stem to starn. 

Gen. Gage. Captain Jumper of the Two Follies, are you ? 
Well, who are the Two Follies ? 

Fisherman. Ha I ha ! you must be a green one ! Don't you 
know the Two Follies ? Why, I tell ye, there ain't a codfish 
that swims this side the Grand Banks but what knows the 
Two Follies just like a book. 



SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS." 127 

Gen. Gage. Well, Captain Jumper, I don't swim tliis side the 
Grand BanlvS, so perhaps a codlish may laiuw some things I do 
not. But who are tlie Two Poliies ? I should like to know that. 

Fisherman. I pity your ignorance; I'm blowed if I dou't. 
Why, the Two Poliies is my fishing smack. . 

Gen. Gage. Oh, now I understand. 

Fisherman. I should think you might understand. 

Gen. Gage. Yes, I understand ; the name of a fishing vessel, 
and you are the captain of her. 

Fisherman. I guess I ain't nothing else. 

Gen. Gage. Well, Captain Jumper, where do you belong ? 

Fisherman. Where do I belong ? I belong to the Two Follies. 

Gen. Gage. Exactly so ; but where do you hail from ? 

Fisherman. Where do I hail from ? I hail from all along 
shore, and sometimes clear to the Grand Banks. 

Gen. Gage. Come, Captain Jumper, this will not do. You 
must give me a direct answer. I want to know where you be- 
long ? 

Fisherman, Didn't I tell j-ou I belonged to the Two Follies ? 

Gen. Gage. Well, then, where does the Two Follies belong ? 

Fisherman. Oh, now you're on the land tack. Wall, the Two 
Follies belongs to Marblehead, as anybody that can read may 
know, if they will jest go and look on her starn. 

Gen, Gage. Are you a citizen of Marblehead when 3^ou are at 
home, or when the Two Follies is at home ? 

Fisherman. I'm all that. You ax anybody down to Marble- 
head, and if they don't tell you so, I'll eat a haddock. 

Gen. Gage, Well, Captain Jumper, I want to know how the 
people of Marblehead feel about the Boston Fort Bill. It will be 
the making of the people of Marblehead. You have a great many 
wharves and warehouses there, haven't you ? 

Fisherman. Yes, we've got considerable many, and lots of 
room to build more. 

Gen. Gage. Well, tell your people to go to work and build them 
up as fast as they can, for they will soon have use enough for 
them. 

Fisherman. Yes, I guess they will, for the first thing they did 
after they heard of this pesky Boston Fort Bill, was to call a town 



128 SCHOOL " EXHIBITiONS " 

meeting, and vote to give the use of their wharves and ware- 
houses to the Boston merchants as long as Boston harbor is shet 
up, if it's to all etarnity. 

Gen, Gage, Well, then, they are a set of blockheads. Why 
don't they build up a town for themselves, and take the trade that 
has been pouring into Boston with such a rich tide ? 

Fisherman, Well, now, General, 3'ou don't know tlie nater of 
a Marbleheader. If he sees his neighbor is down, it ain't his na- 
ter to go and give him a kick; but he runs and takes hold, and 
gives him a lift, and helps him up again. If you expect Marble- 
head to take advantage of Boston, while Boston is flat on its back, 
and this rascally port bill smothering her to death, I guess you'll 
find yourself as much mistaken as, as— as much mistaken as if 
you put your finger into the fire and pulled it out again. 

Gen, Gage. Captain Jumper, I don't understand your compar- 
ison. I don't see as that would be any mistake at all. 

Fisherman, What, to put your fingers in the fire, and then 
take them out again ? 

Geii. Gage. There would be no mistake in that. 

Fisherman. 1 guess you'd find there would; a great mistake. 

Gen, Gage. How so ? 

FisMi^man, How so ? Win',— you'd burn your fingers. 

Gen, Gage. Well, tliat would be no mistake ; 1 should know 
before I put my fingers in the fire, that the heat would burn 
them. 

Fisherman, Wall, then, you must be a great fool to put your 
fingers in the fire, according to my notion. 

Gen, Gage. Is the Two PoUies as sharp as you are, Captain 
Jumper ? 

Fisherman, Yes, she's a real pink, and sails like the wind. If 
I could only a got five minutes' start of your folks, they wouldn't 
a ketched me with' all the craft they could a mustered. 

Gen. Gage. Where does the Two Follies lie ? 

Fisherman, Down to Hancock's wharf. 

Gen, Gage, And you want to take her out to Marblehead ? 

Fisherman. Yes, there's where I was clearing for when these 
land lubbers of your'n came across my hawser, and brought me 
up all standin'. 



SCHOOL *' EXHIBITIONS." 129 

Qen. Gage. But how came j^on to attempt to go out without a 
permit ? You knew the port was closed. 

Fisherman. I knew they said 'twas, but I knew it was a thun- 
derin' lie; for I could see out between the islands as plain as ever 
I could. All I wanted was to get five minutes' start, and I'd a 
showed 'em the way out, according to my notion. 

Gen. Gage. Well, Captain Jumper, suppose I give you a per- 
mit to take the Two Follies out, do you promise to be a faithful 
and loyal subject to his Majesty ? 

Fisherman. Yes, sir; from clue to earring. 

Gen. Gage. And to use your influence to make the people of 
Marblehead do their duty faithfully, like good subjects ? 

Fisherman. Yes, sir; I'll kick every man in Marblehead that 
don't do his duty. (Gen. Gage sits at desk and writes for a few 
moTnents, then rises vnth a paper in his hand.) 

Gen. Gage. Well, here's a permit, {hands loa'per) Now go and 
prove yourself worthy of the favor I have shown you, by doing 
your duty faithfully. 

Fisherman. Yes, sir; thank ye, General; good-bye. General. 
{the FiSHEEMAN steps towards the door and Gen. Gage towards 
the desk. Suddenly the Geneeal turns quickly about and calls 
after the Fisherman.) 

Gen. Gage. Captain Jumper, Captain Jumper, wait a moment. 
{the Captain turns ahoitt) What is your idea of loyalty to his 
Majesty ? What would you consider the first and highest duty 
of the people of Marblehead ? 

Fisherman. Their first and highest duty ? Why, to fight ag'in 
this pesky Boston Port Bill till all is blue, {he rushes towards 
door.) 

Gen. Gage. Soldiers, take the permit from him and stop his 
vessel, {the soldiers spring icpon Captain Jumper, and a struggle 
ensues.) 

CURTAIN. 



130 SCHOOL "exhibitions." 

Scene VIII. — TJte Headquarters of Gen. Gage in Boston. 
Gen. Gage and Major Pitcairn seated. 

Gen. Gage. Well, Major Pitcairn, now I know where I am. I 
not only see land, but I can feel bottom ; we are on soundings. 
Parliament has marked out my course, and backed me up with 
ample reinforcements. We will now straighten out affairs in this 
colony, in a way that will make these rebellious spirits quail. 

Fit. Parliament has come strongly up to the mark, has it ? 

Gen. Gage. Yes, nobly. Tliey not only adhere to the Boston 
Port Bill, but they have passed a more comprehensive one for 
restraining the trade of the New England colonies generally ; and 
yet another bill for restraining the trade of New Jerse^^, Pennsyl- 
vania, Maryland, Yirginia, and South Carolina; and, best of all, 
another bill for prohibiting the colonies from carrying on the fish- 
eries on the banks of Newfoundland. By this last measure, the 
New England colonies will be starved into obedience, if they can 
not be managed in any other way; for they depend on those fish- 
eries for half their living. 

Fit. That's good. Put j'our foot upon their necks. I can hear 
them squeal with a good will. 

Gen. Gage. We have nothing to do now but to go ahead, as- 
sert the supremacy of Parliament, and put these vile rebels down I 
at the point of the bayonet. j 

Fit. Good. My sword is impatient for the work. But, Gen- | 
eral, we have a force both moral and physical, to contend with 
here, which we may find it no small or easy matter to subdue. 
Has _your Excellency forgotten how instantly thirty thousand men 
in the country flew to arms at the first flying report of a hostile 
movement in Boston ? 

Gen. Gage. Who cares for your thirty thousand bushwhackers ? 
Five hundred of our regular troops would drive the whole drove 
of them back to the woods again, like a frightened fiock of 
sheep. 

Pit. And does your Excellency recollect that this rebel Provin- 
cial Congress has already provided for raising a regular army of 
fifteen thousand nfen, and that a fourth part of their militia, be- 
sides, is enrolled as minute men? Does your Excellency know 



SCHOOL "exhibitions/* 131 

that they have at this moment a large quantity of military stores 
collected out here at the town of Concord? 

Gen. Gage. Yes, I know all about this jjerfectly well, and it is 
to this last point that I am about to direct your special attention. 
Those military stores must be taken out of their hands before the 
hour of breakfast to-morrow. Our first blow shall be to take 
possession of the military stores at Concord. Take that sting out 
of the mouth of the serpent, and it will be fun to see him squirm. 

Pit Well, what is to be the order of the expedition, General ? 
If it is to be accomplished this night, there is no time to be lost. 

Gen. Gage. You will take the regiment of grenadiers and light 
infantry, under command of Col. Smith, and proceed at ten o'clock 
to the river, where a sufficient number of boats are already ordered 
to be in readiness to convey you across to Philip's farm, in Cam- 
bridge. ' A double watch is set all around the city, to prevent any 
one from escaping to give the alarm in the couiitr3\ After land- 
ing on the other side, you will make a rapid march to Concord, 
and destroy every vestige of military stores and provisions there 
collected, except such as may be conveniently brought to town. 

Pit. What if the ragamufllns attempt to resist or annoy us in 
any way? 

Gen. Gage. Give them summary treatment, befitting rebels as 
they are. 

Pit That is all I want; I'll take care of the rest. 

Gen. Gage. Now go and give the necessary orders, and have 
the regiment in readiness to start at ten o'clock this evening. 
This will be a clever before-breakfast job for you, and when you 
get back we will give you something else to do. I wish you to 
have a special eye to the defences of the town ; they must be 
strengthened at every point. And see that the utmost care is 
taken by double guards to-night, to prevent any one from escap- 
ing into the country, lest the alarm may reach Concord before 
our troops arrive there. I will myself accompany you on some 
part of the round. 

CURTAIN. 

After the curtain has risen again, a young girl should pass on to the 
stage and^ without announcement, recite " Paul Reveres Ride,^' 



132 SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS." 

PAUL REYERE'S RIDE. 

Listen, my children, and you shall hear 
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, 

On the eighteenth of April, in seventy-five; 

Hardly a man is now alive 
Who remembers that famous day and year. 

He said to his friend, '*If the British march 
By land or sea from the town to-night, 

Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch 
Of the North Church tower as a signal light, — 

One, if by land, and two, if by sea; 

And I on the opposite shore will be. 

Ready to ride and spread the alarm 

Through every Middlesex village and farm. 

For the country folk to be up and to arm." 

Then he said, *' Good-night! " and with muflSed oar. 

Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore, 

Just as the moon rose over the bay, 

Where swinging wide at her moorings lay 

The Somerset, British man-of-war; 

A phantom ship, with each mast and spar 

Across the moon like a prison bar, 

And a huge black hulk, that was magnified 

By its own reflection in the tide. 

Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street, 
Wanders and watches with eager ears, 
Till in the silence around him he hears 

The muster of men at the barrack door. 

The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet. 
And the measured tread of the grenadiers, 

Marching down to their boats on the shore. 

Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church, 
By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread, 
To the belfry-chamber overhead. 

And started the pigeons from their perch 



SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS." 133 

On the sombre rafters, that round him made 
Masses and moving shapes of shade,— 

By the trembling ladder, steep and tall, 

To the highest window in the wall, 
Where he paused to listen and look down 
A moment on the roofs of the town, 

And the moonlight flowing over all. 

Beneath, in the churchyard lay the dead, 

In their night-encampment on the hill, 

Wrapped in silence so deep and still, 
That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread, 
The watchful night-wind, as it went 
Creeping along from tent to tent, 
And seeming to whisper " All is well ! " 
A moment only he feels the spell 
Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread 
Of the lonely belfry and the dead; 
For suddenly all his thoughts are bent 
On a shadowy something far awaj^ 
Where the river widens to meet the bay, — 
A line of black that bends and floats 
On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats. 

Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride. 
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride 

On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere, 
Now he patted his horse's side, 

Now gazed at the landscape far and near, 
Then, impetuous, stamped the earth, 
And turned and tightened his saddle girth; 
But mostly he watched with eager search 
The beifry-tower of the Old North Church, 
As it rose above the graves on the hill, 
Lonely and spectral and sombre and still, 
And lo ! as he looks, on the belfry's height 
A glimmer, and then a gleam of li^ht ! 

He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns, 
But lingers and sazes, till full on his sight 

A second lamp in the belfry burns ! 



134 SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS.*' 

A hurn^ of hoofs in a village street, 
A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, 
And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark 

Struck out 1)3' a steed filing fearless and fleet. 

That was all ! And j^et, through the gloom and the lights 

The fate of the nation was riding that night; 

And the spark struck out bj^ that steed, in his flight. 

Kindled the land into flame with its heat. 

He has left the village and mounted the steep, 

And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep. 

Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides; 
And under the alders, that skirt its edge, 
Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge, 

Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides. 

It was twelve b}' the village clock. 

When he crossed the bridge into Medford town. 
He heard the crowing of the cock, 
And the barking of the farmer's dog, 
And felt the damp of the river fog. 

That rises after the sun goes down. 

It was one by the village clock, 

When he galloped into Lexington. 
He saw the gilded weathercock 

Swim in the moonlight as he passed. 
And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare, 
Gaze at him with a spectral glare, 

As if they already stood aghast 
At the bloody work they would look upon. 

It was two by the village clock, 

When he came to the bridge in Concord town. 
He heard the bleating of the flock, 

And the twitter of birds among tlie trees, 

And felt tlie breath of the morning breeze 

Blowing over the meadows brown. 
And one was safe and asleep in his bed 



SCHOOL ** exhibitions/' 135 

Who at the bridge would be first to fall, 
Who that day would be lying dead, 
Pierced by a British musket ball. 

You know the rest. In the books you have read, 
How the British Regulars fired and fled; 
How the farmers gave them ball for ball, 
From behind each fence and farm-yard wall ; 
Chasing the red coats down the lane. 
Then crossing the fields to emerge again 
Under the trees at the turn of the road, 
And only pausing to fire and load. 

So through the night rode Paul Revere ; 

And so through the night went his cry of alarm 

To every Middlesex village and farm,— 
A cry of defiance and not of fear, 
A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door, 
And a word that shall echo forevermore ! 
For borne on the night-wind of the Past, 
Through all our history, to the last. 
In the hour of darkness and peril and need, 

The people will waken and listen to hear 
The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed. 

And the midnight message of Paul Revere. 

H. W. Longfellow. 



The exercises of the evening will be concluded with a chorus by 
the entire school, entitled 

LAND OF OUR FATHERS. 
Allegro, Arranged from Webbe. 




•> 






1. Land of our fa - thers, where - so - e'er we roam, 

J i^i 



mi.im\ 



9—rS> 75— r -* *- 



9-»ti"lfT=5=*=E^=2- 



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i!:iz 



136 



SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS." 



-ii^ 



i=f^::=i-- 



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Sing we in har - mo-ny our na - tive land, Our 

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-£=£= 











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land, 



na - tive land. 

Iff: /:^ 



::22z: 



I 



2. Though other climes may brighter hopes fulfill, 
Land of our birth, we ever love thee still ! 
Heaven shield our happy home from each hostile band, 
Freedom and plenty ever crown our native land. 
All then inviting, hearts and voices joining, 
Sing we in harmony our native land. 

Our native land, our native land, 

Our native land, our native land. 




SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS/ 

! ^ ! 



137 



ij=:i^zitj=ii=:z:]=zz 



Land of our birth, to lis thou still 



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art home; 



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Peace and pros-per - i - ty on thy sons at - tend, 



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Down 

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pos - ter - i - ty their in - flu-ence de-scend. 



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All then in - vit - ing, hearts and voi - ces join - ing. 



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138 



SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS. 



M EXHIBITION FOR GENERAL OCCASIONS. 

When the moment arrives for commencing the exercises, at a 
given signal, the whole school should rise and sing the fol- 
lowing song : 



Music— "The Old Granite State." 






A— N- 






We have come now to greet you, We have come now to 



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greet 


you, We 


have come now to greet you, On 


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oth - er fes -tal night, We're a band of schol-ars, We're 



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band of Bcho-lars, We're a band of schol-ars, And we 



-4 —9- •-9~V ^ -^ 9— V ^ ^— 



greet you with a will. With our best en - deav - ors, With our 






tizit 



best en - deav - ors, With our best en -deav -ors, We will 



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our pro-gramme fill. We will speak our piea • es 



SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS.' 



139 



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^v — y — y — y— 





oer, 



Bet • ter than we did be 



fore, 



And we'll 



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try to please you more. And in - crease your de ■ 



, 


1 I^ 


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IV 


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s. 


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light, Now we crave your pa-tience, Now we crave your 

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pa - tience. Now we crave your pa - tience, For the 



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— = = = ^—^^ # = ' ' — 

faults we bring to sight. With this song of wel-come, With this 



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h^z-ii 



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song of wel-come. With this song of wel-come, We will 



t^=l;?gi5M^^=_y 



zisn-Ai SI 

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make the 


air re - sound. 


Hur - rah ! hur - rah I 


hur- 


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rah, hur • rah, hur - rah, hur - rah ! We will shout our 



IS 




















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w 




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wel - come. 


We 


will 


shout our wel - come, 




3 


will 


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shout our wel - come, Till the ech - oes back re - bound. 



140' SCHOOL " EXHIBITIONS." 

Announcement. — Your attention is invited to a declamation 
entitled 

THE ADVANTAGES OF EDUCATION, 

[From Catlicart's '* Youth's Speaker," by permission.] 

Of all the experiences which we shall have in life, of all the 
blessings which it shall please Providence to allow us to cultivate, 
there is not one which will breathe a purer fragrance, or which 
will bear a more heavenly aspect, than education. It will be a 
companion which no misfortunes can ever depress, no clime des- 
troy, no enemy alienate, no despotism enslave ; at home a friend, 
aI)road an introduction, in solitude a solace, in society an orna- 
ment. It chastens vice, it guides virtue, it gives at once a grace 
and government to genius. 

Without education what is a man ? A splendid slave, a reason- 
ing savage, vacillating between the dignity of intelligence derived 
from God and the degradation of passions participated witli brutes, 
shuddering at the terrors of a hereafter, or embracing the horrid 
hope of annihilation. What is this wondrous world of his resi- 
dence ? 

** A mighty maze, and all without a plan," a dark and desolate 
and dreary cavern, without wealth or ornament or order. But 
light up within it the torch of knowledge, and how wondrous the 
transition ! 

The seasons change, the atmosphere breathes, the landscape 
lives, earth unfolds its fruits, ocean rolls in its magnificence, the 
heavens display their constellated canopy, and the grand ani- 
mated spectacle of nature rises revealed before the educated ; its 
varieties regulated and its mj'steries resolved. 

The philosophy which bewilders, the prejudices which debase, 
the superstitions which enslave, vanish before education. If a 
man but follow its precepts purely, it will not only lead him to the 
victories of this world, but also open the very portals of Om- 
nipotence for his admission. 



We now invite the attention of this audience to a Dialogue illus- 
trating the pleasure derived from the study of Entomology. 



SCHOOL ** EXHIBITIONS." 141 

The stage sJioicld he fitted up to represent the interior of a rail- 
road depot. A woman is waiting for the cars. An ento- 
mologist entei^s, and seating himself addresses the woman. 

Entomologist. Why, I supposed I should be late for the train. 
Will you be so good as to tell me, madam, when it is due ? 

Wo7nan. It was due quarter of an hour since, but there has 
been an accident on the road, and the train is not expected for 
an hour or more. 

Ento. Ah, indeed ! Well that is rather hard on business men 
and women, but an entomologist can always find some amuse- 
ment even while waiting for the cars, {he takes out one of two wil- 
low baskets which he had placed under the seat when he came in) 
Madam, in this basket I have quite a large number of insects, 
which I have just obtained to make out my collection. I will 
show them to you, if you wish, provided you will not allow any 
of them to escape. 

Woman. Don't trouble yourself, I beseech you ; I have no de- 
sire to see your collection of insects. 

Ento. Oh! it is alwaj's a pleasure to show my insects. \he 
takes out three or four boxes which he places betweeh himself 
and the woman. ) 

Woman. For pity's sake, sir, do show your curiosities to some 
one who can appreciate them ! If there is anything I utterly 
abominate, it is insects. 

Ento. Prejudice, prejudice, madam ! Such feelings show that 
you were not properly educated when 3^oung. (lie hotels up a 'box) 
This box contains flies. There are eighteen huncfred known 
species of the family Muscidse. If you will just lend me a pin, 
madam, I will take out one of the common house-flies and let 3'ou 
examine it with a microscope. 

Woman. You shan't have a pin for such a cruel purpose. 
What do you suppose I want to see a common house-fly for ? 
Haven't I fought them all summer ? Haven't the wretched things 
taken possession of every room in my house ? Do put your box 
of flies away ! 

Ento. I am sorry to see a woman so prejudiced. Of course you 
would enjoy life much better if you only understood something 



142 SCHOOL "exhibitions.' 



1 



of the family of Muscid^. Haven't you a pin about you? I have 
one or two specimens of the plagiie-fiy, in wliich I think you 
may be more interested. 

Woman. I thought all flies were plague flies. If you have 
any worse ones than those I have l^nown, I am sure I don't want 
to see them. I told you once I would not lend yon pins to tor- 
ment even flies, (he takes a pin from his coat, puts it into the 
box and finally brijigs out a fly on the point. He holds it up. 
A apiece of black cloth will represent it very well.) 

Unto. During the prevalence of the 3'ellow fever In Norfolk, 
Yirginia, not long since, the plaguefly, as it is called, made its 
appearance there in large numbers. This specimen was taken 
from one of the infected houses, and I prize it highly. It is a flat 
insect, as you see. Do j'ou notice its large wings ? 

Woman. How many times do you want me to tell you to take 
away those abominable flies ? Don't you suppose we have sick- 
ness enough here, without your introducing the plague? If I 
thought that fly was not already dead, I would summon a police- 
man to take you in custody'. 

Ento. I am sorry you feel so, for I was just about to show you 
how they are supposed to carry the contagion, [he lays down the 
box and takes up another) Perhaps you will be more interested 
in this box of Cimicida^, or land bugs. It is said the bugs some_ 
times found in sleeping apartments were unknown in England 
until after the great fire of London, in 1666, when it was intro- 
duced in the flr-timber imported for re-building the cMy. Mad- 
am, did 3'ou ever see a specimen of these bugs? 

Woman. Sir, you are altogether too presuming for a stranger. 
It is none of your business whether I have ever seen them or not. 
I don't want to see any more, I can assure you, and, if you are a 
gentleman, you will keep your specimens of insects away from me. 
{the man takes the basket from underneath the seat, rejolaces his 
box, and in the meantime some crabs escape, one of which 
bites the woman^sfoot. The crabs used must, of course, be dead 
ones, but, by a little practice, they can be made to appear as if 
alive, ) 

Woman. Oh! dear! oh! dear! {she looks doion to her foot 
and perceives the crab) Don't you see ! Some of your crabs have 



SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS." 143 

escaped from the basket, and one is biting my foot terriblj^ ! Take 
it off, can't you? I don't see much pleasure in insects, {she tries 
to take the crab off her foot.) 

Ento. Insects ! You, an intelligent woman, surely don't call 
crabs, insects ? Why, they belong to the class C7'uslacea, the or- 
der Malacostraca 

Woman. Well, I don't care what class crabs belong to, or 
what order either. Do j^ou intend to sit still and let that crab eat 
up my foot ? Oh dear ! 

Ento. Seems to me you are rather hasty in your speech, for a 
lady, (he takes hold, and after some trouble rem^oves the crab ; 
and then picks up the others and puts them in the basket be- 
tween himself and the ivoman. TJie -woman is stooping over and 
holding on to her foot.) 

Woman. Place that basket somewhere else, if you please ; I 
have had enough insects for the present. (Jie places the basket on 
the other side of him.) 

Ento. I am sorry women cannot appreciate the pleasures of an 
entomologist, [there is a silence of a few minutes. The woman 
takes out a paper and begins to read. The entomologist takes 
oufhis watch, and holds it with open case in his hands. In the 
meantime he watches the back of the woman's dress intently. 
After a while, the woman looks at the man inquiringly, as if to 
ask the explanation of his conduct.) 

Ento. Madam, I am something of an entomologist, and I have 
heard it remarked that a thousand-legged worm cannot travel 
over one inch per minute perpendicularly on silk. The one now, 
within two inches of the back of your neck, I don't think is even 
making that time. 

Womaii. Take it off! Take it off! (she seizes her handker- 
chief and brushes the back of her dress frantically.) 

Ento. Pray keep quiet for just two or three minutes longer ; 
the insect hardly moves. There, I re<2:ret to say, madam, you 
have destroyed a scientific test in which I took more than ordin- 
ary interest, (he closes his watch with a sigh, leans hack in his 
seat, but soon sits erect again and begins to watch the lady^s hat 
tery intently.) 

Woman, It was one of your contemptible insects that j^ou have 



144 SCHOOL " EXHIBITIONS " 

allowed to escape, I presume, {the man keeps Ms gaze fixed upon 
the woman'' s hat,) 

Ento. I trust, madam, 3'ou are not afraid of yellow jackets, 
known by entomologists as belonging to the family of hymenop- 
terous insects ? 

Woman. Scare it away, quick ! 

Ento. Don't be alarmed; I think it is a male wasp, and you 
know they never sting. Perhaps I am mistaken, it may be a fe- 
male. 

Woman. Brush it off, will you ? Quick ! quick ! {she takes her 
handkerchief and thrashes her hat vehemently.) 

Ento. Gone ! Another scientitic pleasure lost ! {tlie man leans 
back in his seat with a very forlorn look. He sits still a minute 
or two, then suddenly looks beneath the seat and hastily taps the 
cover of the old willow basket he had placed there on his entrance. 
He finally draws it carefully out and places it on the seat be- 
tween him and the woman. The latter looks at tlie basket sus- 
piciously. Finally the man leans his head over the basket, and 
appears to be looking into the interior, through a small hole in 
the cover, occasioried by broken willows. He then picks up a 
piece of newspaper, and tears off a piece and begins to stop up a 
small hole in the cover with it) Snakes sometimes crawl through 
very small holes, {the woman springs to her feet, seizes her bun- 
dles, and rushes for the door.) 

Woman. Well, this is beyond all reason ! You ought to be in 
the insane retreat ! I won't wait for the train another minute. I 
would rather wait a week than ride in the cars with a man who 
is seeking pleasure from entomology ! 

CURTAIN. 



During the foregoing dialogue, preparations should be made 

for 

A TABLEAU— '* THE PEDDLER." 

TJiis tableau is taken, by permission of the publisher, from a 
l^Qok mtitled '^ Parlor Tableaux," 



SCHOOL * ' EXHIBITIONS." 1 45 

Characters and Costumes. 

Peddler. —Long drab frock coat, gray pants and vest, white 
shirt, fancy necktie, slouch hat, boots. 

Father.— Dark vest and pantaloons, white shirt, black neck- 
tie, slippers. 

Mother.— Brown merino dress, white collar and cufis, etc. 

Sister. — Drab or gray dress, white collar, apron, etc. 

Grandmother.— Black dress, white cap and small shawl, dark 
apron, spectacles. 

Daughter. — Short blue dress, low neck and short sleeves, etc. 

Boy. — Gray knickerbocker suit. 

Baby. — White dress, red shoes, coral beads. 

The above are the costumes given, Ofcom^se they can he varied 
to suit the occasion. 

This scene represents a dry goods peddler showing his wares 
to the occupants of a country house. As convenient, the scene 
represents either the porch or interior of a house. To the right 
of centre stands the peddler with his hat raised, and wiping his 
forehead with his handkerchief, while his pack of goods is on the 
floor in the centre, with the contents displayed for the approval 
of the family. The mother is kneeUng down by the pack, and is 
examining the quality of a piece of goods she has in her hand. 
She is looking up into the peddler's face, as if inquiring the 
price. At back of her stands the grandmother, who is adjusting 
her spectacles previous to examining the goods. By her side 
stands the boy ; he holds her dress, and is looking with half won- 
der at the peddler. At the back stands the father with his hand 
in his pocket and smoking a pipe, and is looking at his wife with 
a smiling face, as if laughing at her questians to the peddler. On 
the left stands the wife's sister ; she has the baby in her arms, 
and is trying to attract its attention by poin.ting to the peddler's 
wares. On the right stands the daughter ; she has her finger up 
to her mouth, and is looking with admiration at the peddler's 
goods. 

In this, and many other tableaux, a quite a long time is required 
to show them. When the curtain rises, the following might be 
sung, by some one concealed at the right or left of tlie stage. 



146 



SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS. 



Music from *' The Singing Bird," by permission. 



^-#- 



:i!- 



^SEe-j^fe'iil 



Curious things are here for show, Of all sorts and pri-ces; 



-r— : P-' — * — * — -^-P^^-n-^ 



( Dresses, shawls, kid gloves and thread, ) 

( Bib - bons, la - ces, flow - ers red, ) Just to suit this cri - sis. 



CURTAIN. 



Announcement.— The audience will now listen to a recitation 

by , entitled 

''LITTLE BROWN HANDS." 

They drive home the cows from the pasture, 

Up through the long sliady lane, 
Where the quail whistles loud in the wheat fields, 

That are yellow with ripened grain. 
They find, in the thick, waving grasses, 

Where the scarlet-lipped strawberry grows ; 
They gather the earliest snowdrops, 
And the first crimson buds of the rose. 

They toss the hay in the meadow ; 

They gather the elder-bloom white ; 
They find where the dusty grapes purple 

In the soft-tinted October light ; 
They know where the apples hang ripest, 

And are sweeter than Italy's wines ; 
They know where the fruit hangs the thickest 

On the long, thorny blackberry vines. 

They gather the delicate sea- weeds, 

And build tiny castles of sand ; 
They pick up the beautiful sea-shells— 

Fairy barks that have drifted to land ; 



SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS." 147 

They wave from the tall, rocking tree-tops, 
Where the oriole's hammock-nest swings, 

And ai night-time are folded in slumber 
By a song that a fond mother sings. 

Those who toil bravely are strongest ; 
The humble and poor become great ; 
And from the brown-handed children 
Shall grow mighty rulers of state. 
The pen oif the author and statesman — 

The noble and wise of the land — 
The sword and chisel and palette 
Shall be held in the little brown hand. 

Maby H. Krout. 

CURTAIN. 



A DECLAMATION BY A CLASS OF BOYS, 

IN CONCERT. 

A few appropriate gesticres, executed simultaneously ^ will add 
muoh to the effect of this piece. 

Strikes are quite proper, only strike right ; 
Strike to some purpose, but not for a fight ; 
Strike for your manhood, for honor and fame ; 
Strike right and left, till you win a good name ; 
Strike for your freedom from all that is vile ; 
Strike off companions who often beguile ; 
Strike with the hammer, the sledge and the axe ; 
Strike off bad habits with burdensome tax ; 
Strike out unaided, depend on no other ; 
Strike without gloves, and your foolishness smother ; 
Strike off the fetters of fashion and pride ; 
Strike where 'tis best, but let Wisdom decide ; 
Strike a good blow while the iron is hot ; 
Strike, keep striking, till you hit the right spot. 



148 SCHOOL *' EXHIBITIONS.'* 

A recitation by , entitled 

''NAMING THE KITTENS." 



^ 



A very little girl should he seated on the floor of the platform. 
She should he holding one kitten in her hands, and four 
others are lying in an old hat hy her side-. TJie old cat 
should have her paws in the girVs lap, as if watching Iter 
evei^y motion, 

I know Mrs. Kktj^ j^our Pussies are pretty, 

But don't be alarmed for all that. . 
I just want to count them, I surely won't hurt them ; 

I'll put them right back in the hat. 
I think, though, I'll name them, before I return them — 

Don't act so afraid, Mrs. Cat — 
This white one is Midget, I'm sure she's a fidget ; 

This gray one is blind as a bat. 
So he's Ebenezer, named from Mrs. Teaser's 

Blind Eben', who can't see a bit. 
This black one is Jetty ; dear me! ain't he pretty? 

This maltese, I'll call him Tom-tit. 
You foolish old Kitty, your five pussies pretty 

Shall quickly be placed in the hat. 
I'll call this one Daisy — you do act crazy^ 

I'll cover them, now, with the mat. 

CURTAIN. 



A TABLEAU— ''THE GHOST STORY." 

TJiis tableau is taken, hy permission of the publisher, from a 

hook entitled ''Parlor Tableaux.'''^ 

Characters and Costumes. 

Reader. — Brown or purple merino dress, cut low in the neck, 
with short sleeves, a white apron, etc. 

Boys. —Brown Holland smock-frock, red necktie, gray pants, 
etc. Other boys dressed in various ways, as country boys gen- 
erally are. 

Girls.— Various colored dresses ; some with white aprons. . 



SCHOOL *' EXHIBITIONS." 14:9 

This laughable picture represents a group of boys and girls 
gathered together to read a story, which contains the history of 
a veritable ghost. They have chosen one of the largest girls to 
act as reader. The others are all listening with eager ears and 
marked attention, until one of them, thinking it would be a good 
joke to play the ghost and frighten them, has gone out unob- 
served, and borrowed a large white sheet, and throwing it over 
his head and letting it fall down and completely conceal his 
figure, he walks into the room, to the consternation and speech- 
less terror of those who, looking that way, see him enter, while 
the reader and some of the others, with their backs towards the 
door, are intently listening. In the centre sits the reader with a 
large book in her lap, and resting on her knees — her body facing 
the audience, and her head bent down as if in the act of reading, 
with one linger pointing to the place in the book. On the rigM 
are two girls and a boy sitting on the floor ; they have looked up 
and seen the ghost, their hands are raised, and their faces express" 
terror. At back of them stands a boy who is very much terrified 
and about to fl3\ On the left of the reader are sitting two girls 
and a boy ; they have their backs to the ghost and are listening 
attentively. At back of them stands a boy who has just seen the 
ghost— his hair wild and ej'es starting out ; his hands raised, and 
a general expression of terror on his face. In the front, on the 
extreme left, stands the ghost with his hand pointed at the group 
on the floor, who sit in a semi-circle fronting the audience. 

Wlien the curtain rises, the following verse should he sung by 
some one at the right or left of the platf07^7n. Show the 
tableau but once. 




iifv: 



^^^~ 






'Ti3 mid - night hour : the moon shines bright, The 






hour that ghosts claim as their own. The ghost - ly sto - ry 



150 



SCHOOL " EXHIBITIONS." 



^#— i-# K K ^^ N ^- 


. ^ "•r"""t* " 


E ^^ *^i^E' * t.- 


r_z^.EEf-=5=^-*-: 



read this night Sug-gests the fun here shown. Soon 






:>.:i^ 



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stalks there 


- in 


a 


re 


- al 


ghost ; 


The sto - 


ry 












1 


K K 


J 




ic i • 


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9 


* • 


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1 ^_-_^'_L_ 




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for - got - ten quite, 



It fright - ens 



# 



m 



r£;==t 



the fore - most, For 



-^--^ 



'tis a fear • ful sight. 

CURTAIN. 



A DELINQUENT TAX-PAYER BRA\^NG THE WATER 
BOARD.— A Dialogue. 

This scene is supposed to represent the office of the Water Com- 
missioners. A large placard should he loosted in a conspic- 
uous place, on which should he printed in large lettei^s^ 
** Office of the Board of Water Commissioners," and on 
the same, or a similar p>lacard, ** The water will be shut oft 
from the dwellings of all persons whose taxes are not paid at 
six p. M., June 1, 1880." A clerk sits at desk writing, 

A delinquent tax-payer enters^ apparently very angry. 

Clerk, Good afternoon, sir. 

Tax-payer, Going to shut off the water, eh ? 

Clerk, Certainly, at six o'clock. 

Tax. I'd like to see you try it on, I would ! If this Water 
Board imagines it runs the whole city it will tind itself mistaken ! 

Clerk, Won't you take a seat, sir ? 

Tax, If the water had been shut off, I'd have given this Board 
such a tilt as it never had before ! It can brow-beat some men, 
but it mustn't try any Caesarism on me ! 



SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS." 151 

Clerk. Don't stand up this hot day, I beseech you. {the Clerk 
takes a hill and begins to Jill it out from a large hook.) 

Tax. I now refuse to pay the rates, and you shut the water off 
if you dare ! I'll make a test case of it and carry it to the Su- 
preme Court ! {the Clebk continues writing) Yes ; I'll carry it to 
the Supreme Court if it costs me $10,000. I have never allowed 
any one to trample on me, and it's too late to begin now. 

Clerk. A very warm day, Mr. . 

Tax. No ; you can't brow-beat me. I know my rights as an 
American citizen, and I will maintain them — how much is it? 
{the Clerk takes up the hill he has made out and looks at it.) 

Clerk. Six dollars. 

Tax. We have no Czar in this country, and— take the six dol- 
lars out of this ten dollar bill, {he hands the Clerk a ten dollar 
hill, and the latter returns the change.) 

Clerk. It is a beautiful day although rather warm. 

Tax. Yes, pretty fair. This board mustn't try to bull-doze me. 
I'm not the man to submit to any tyrann^^ Did you receipt this 
bill ? {he picks up the hill and looks at it.) 

Clerk. Yes, sir. 

Tax. Looks like rain, don't it ? You be sure and tell the Com- 
missioners what I have said. Is that clock right ? Well, good- 
day. 

Clerk. Grood afternoon, sir. 

CURTAIN. 



THREE DAYS IN THE LIFE OF COLUMBUS. 

A DECLAMATION. 

[From Cathcart's •* Youth's Speaker,'' by permission.] 

On the deck stood Columbus ; the ocean's expanse, 
Untried and unlimited, swept "by his glance. 

** Back to Spain ! " cry his men ; *• Put the vessel about ! 
We venture no further through danger and doubt." 

*' Three days, and I give you a world 1 " he replied ; 

"Bear up, my brave comrades ; — three days shall decide." 



152 SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS." 

He sails, — but no token of land is in slight ; 

He sails, --but the claj^ shows no more than tlie nlgbt. 

On, onward he sails, while in vain o'er the lee 

The lead is plunged down through a fathomless sea. 

The pilot, in silence, leans mourn full}^ o'er 

The rudder, which creaks 'mid the billowy roar ; 

He hears the hoarse moan of the spray-driving blast, 

And its funereal-wail through the shrouds of the mast. 

The stars of far Europe have sunlv from the skies, 

And the great Southern Cross meets his terrified eyes. 

But at length the slow dawn, softly streaking the night, 

Illumes the blue vault with its faint crimson light. 

*' Columbus, 'tis day, and the darkness is o'er. 

"Day! and what dost thou see?" "Sky and ocean. No 
more ! " 

The second day's past, and Columbus is sleeping, 

While Mutiny near him its vigil is keeping. 
*' Shall he perish ? " " Ay ! death ! " is the barbarous cry ; 
**He must triumph to-morrow, or, perjured, must die!" 

Ungrateful and blind ! — shall the world-linking sea 

He traced for the Future his sepulchre be ? 

Shall that sea, on the morrow, with pitiless waves, 

Fling his corse on that shore which his patient eye craves? 

The corse of an humble adventurer then ; 

One day later,— Columbus, the first among men ! 

But hush ! he is dreaming !— a veil on the main. 
At the distant horizon, is parted in twain ; 
And now on his dreaming eye — rapturous sight ! — 
Fresh bursts the New World from the darkness of night! 
O, vision of glory, how dazzling it seems ! 
How glistens the verdure ! how sparkle the streams ! 
How blue the far mountains ! how glad the green isles ! 
And the earth and the ocean, how dimpled with smiles ! 
*' Joy ! joy ! " cries Columbus: ** this region is mine ! " 
Ah ! not e^en its name, wondrous dreamer, is thine ! 



SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS." . T' 153 

At length o'er Columbus slow consciousness breaks, — 
'' Land ! land ! " cry the sailors ; " land ! land ! " — he awakes; 
He runs,— yes ! behold it ! - it blesseth his sight, 
The land ! O, dear spectacle ! transport ! delight ! 
O, generous sobs, which he cannot restrain ! 
What will Ferdinand say ? and the Future? and Spain ? 
He will lay this fair land at the foot of the throne, — 
His king will repay all the ills he has known 1 
In exchange for a world wliat are honors and gains? 
Or a crown ? But how is he rewarded ? — with chains! 



THE REJECTED GUEST.— A Recitation. 

The speaker i a little girl, should hold in her arms a dilapidated 

doll. 

You needn't be trying to comfort me ; 

I tell you my dolly is hurt, 
Because those naughty, rude children 

Tossed her off in the dirt. 
I took her to their doll-party, 

And left her right in a chair ; 
And when I came back to find her, 

My poor little pet wasn't there. 

And where do you think that I found her? 

Why, out by the gate alone 
My poor little darling was lying, 

Just where she'd been rudely thrown. 
Oh, yes ! I know she is homely. 

And that her right leg is gone, 
And that she has only one eye in, 

And that she is rather forlorn. 

And J know as well as you do, 

That kitty has chewed off her hair, 
And baby has washed all the color 

Off of her cheeks so fair ; 



154 SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS." 

And I know the sawdust keeps running 
Out of a hole in lier back ; 

But what can one expect when my dolly 
Is used as ^football by Jack? 

But I tell you I love her the same, nurse, 

As though she were pretty and well ; 
But the half of the names she was called 

By those children, I never can tell. 
0, dolly ! who cares for their party ? 

They needn't be laughing at j'ou ; 
It is lucky your own little mother 

Is faithful, devoted and true. 

M. D. Bbine. 



THE CLOCK'S SERMON.— A Recitation. 

What sa3's the clock when it strikes one ? 

"Watch! says the clock ; oh, watch, little one! 

What saj's the clock when it strikes two ? 

Love God, little darling, for God loves you. 

And tell me, tell me softh', what it whispers at three? 

Is it '*Sufier little children to come unto me? " 

Then come, gentle lambs, come and wander no more ; 

'Tis the voice of the Shepherd that call you at four ; 

And oh, let your j^oung hearts with gladness revive. 

When it echoes as sweetly, " God bless thee," at five ; 

And remember at six, with the fading of day, 

That your life is a vapor that passeth awaj'. 

What saj's the clock when it strikes seven ? 

Of such is the kingdom, the kingdom of heaven ! 

And what says the clock when it strikes eight? 

Strive, strive to enter in at the beautiful gate ! 

And louder, still louder, it calls us at nine. 

And its song is, "My son, give me that heart of thine." 

Then sweet be j^our voice responsive at ten. 

♦* Hosanna in the highest ! Hosanna, amen ! " 



SCHOOL •'EXHIBITIONS." 155 

Then loud let the chorus ring on till eleven, 
*' Praise, praise to the Father, the Father in heaven ! " 
While the deep stroke of midnight, the watch-word shall bring, 
*' Lo ! these are my jewels, these, these ! " saith the King. 



A CLASS RECITATION. 

IN CONCERT. 
[From Cathcart's "Youth's Speaker," by permission.] 

I suppose, if all the children 

Who have lived through ages long 
Were collected and inspected, 

They would make a wondrous throng. 
O, the babble of the Babel ! 

O, the flutter of the fuss ! 
To begin with Cain and Abel, 

And to finish up with us. 

Think of all the men and women 

Who are now and who have been, — 
Every nation since creation 

That this world of ours has seen ; 
And of all them, not any 

But was once a baby small ; 
While of children, 0, how many 

Never have grown up at all. 

Some have never laughed or spoken. 

Never used their rosy feet ; 
Some have even flown to heaven 

Ere they new that earth was sweet ; 
And indeed I wonder whether, 

If we reckon every birth. 
And bring such a flock together, 

There is room for them on earth. 



156 SCHOOL " EXHIBITIONS." 

Wlio will wash their smiling faces? 

Who their saucy ears will box ? 
Who will dress them and caress them ? 

Who will darn their little socks ? 
Where are arms enough to hold them, 

Hands to pat each shining head ? 
Who will praise them ? who will scold them ? 

Who will pack them off to bed ? 

Little happy Christian children, 

Little savage children, too, 
In all stages of all ages 

That our planet ever knew ! 
Little princes and princesses. 

Little beggars wan and faint ; 
Some in very handsome dresses. 

Naked some, bedaubed with paint. 

Only think of the confusion 

Such a motley crowd would make ! 
And the clatter of their chatter, 

And the things that they would break I 
0, the babble of the Babel ! 

O, the flutter of the fuss ! 
To begin with Cain and Abel, 

And to finish up with us ! 



FAITH, HOPE AND CHARITY. 

Three girls of different heights are required for this piece. 
Faith should he the smallest. Charity the largest. They 
should take their places on the platform. Faith speaking 
first, Charity last. Then each should sing in the same or- 
der. 
Faith. Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence 
of things not seen. 
Hope, Hope is the anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast. 



SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS/' 



157 



Charity {repeats the whole of the thirteenth chapter of First 
Corinthians), 

Then Faith sings the following : 

Words and Music from " Sacred Songs," published in 1842. 



'Tis 



by 



the faith 



of 



joys 



to come, 



-<^- 



tZCI 



We walk through des - erts 



dark 



night : 



1 1 ! 1 


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Till 



ar - rive 



at 



Heav'n, our 



home, 



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-V- 



Faith is our guide, and faith our light. 

2. The want of sight, faith well supplies ; 
She makes the pearly gates appear ; 
Far into distant worlds she pries, 
And brings eternal glories near. 

Hope szw^5 the following : 
Words and Music from the ** Song Book of the School-room,'^ pub. in 1847. 




=*: 



1. Hope comes, our path 



to 



light - en, 



To 



-9 ^ #— g— # -^-y T H 



twine the dia - mond band ; 



nit - ing earth and 






Heav 



en, That hap 



py 



spir 



land ; 



158 



SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS.** 



And 



wlien 



her 



dark - ened, Hope 



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9 9 


9 


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wastes not sigh nor tear, But says, '*a thorn has 



mi 



EEE^. 



9—fZ 



-r>s-^-:: 



pierced me, So ros 



must be 



near." 



2. When the clouds are dark and heavy, 

Hope lifts her trusting eyes, 
And sees, amid their darkness, 

The bow of promise rise. 
When flesh and strength are failing, 

When powers of nature die ; 
Hope says, " My Father calls me 

To mansions in the skj'." 

Charity sings tJie following : 
Words and Music from the " Silver Bell," by permission. 



^fcbf: 



-1^ 



a: 



Meek and low • ly, pure and ho - ly, Chief a 








-f --prq__ 


2 u "^ 


^^-" 


« -N s - 


b_i_± 


_tj_ 


' ' '& 


--•>- 




- -ii^ ^ 



mong the '• Blessed- Three," Turn - ing sad - ness in - to 

, ] FS N- 



-#-. 9 9 ' 

glad - ness, Heav'n-born art thou, Clia - ri - ty ! Pi - ty 



— 


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^ 


— ~A 




J 1 ■ K 


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9 ' 










9 


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m • 1 1 ^ 






^ 9 






li 






m * • m m \ 


9 














9 











dwell-eth in thy bo - som, Kind-ness reign-eth o'er thy 



SCHOOL ** exhibitions/' 



159 



:_3 ^-^-S- 

^ #— . - 




— — 
— i 



heart ; Gen - tie thoughts a - lone can sway thee ; Judg - ment 



^1 



hath in thee 

! 


no part. Meek and low 


- ly, 


pure and 


1 


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■ ! ^ P 




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k 









ho - ly, Chief a - mong the " Bless-ed Three," Turn - ing 






sad - ness in - to glad-ness, Heav'n-bom art thou, Cha - ri - ty. 

CURTAIN. 



OUR TRAMPS.— A Dialogue. 

Two persons, diseased as grandfathei^ and grandmother, should 
be seated on the stage, which should represent a sitting- 
room, Tlie grandmother sewing and the grandfather 
reading. To a knock at the door, the grandmother an- 
swers, *' Come in." A very small hoy and two little girls 
enter. They should he dressed in old clothes helonging to 
grown up people. The coat of the hoy and the dresses of 
the girls should trail upon the ground. 

Grandmother. Well, I never ! Do look, grandfather, if here are 
not more tramps! {the children laugh aloud.) 

Grandfather. Dear ! dear ! more tramps ! We shall have to 
send Rover away if he has not the wit to bite such people as 
these. 

Grandm. What do j'ou want ? 

Boy. Something to eat if you please, ma'am. 

Grandm. What would you like to eat ? 

Boy. Bread and marmalade, if you please. 

First Girl. I should like a piece of lemon pie, ma'am. 



160 SCHOOL "exhibitions." 

Grandm, And what will this poor woman have ? 

Second Girl. A cold potato, mum. {she speaks in good broad 
Irish brogue. Gbandmother goes to the closet and the children 
begin to whisper and look over their shoulders at their trails, 
Geandmother returns^ gives the bread and marmalade to the 
Boy, a piece of lemon pie on a plate to the first Giel, and a cold 
potato to the second. The Boy and the first Girl begin to eat 
their food. When the second Girl takes her cold potato, she 
makes a little courtesy , and then the three children laugh.) 

Grandf. All these tramps have bad manners. Why don't Ro- 
ver drive them off ? 

Grandm. Are you looking for work ? 

Boy. Yes, ma'am, {then the children laugh a little.) 

Grandm. What work can you do ? 

Boy. I can feed hens and drive cows, but I should like best to 
ride horses. 

Grandm. Well, if you are a gooc^, strong, willing fellow, I think 
some farmer will be glad to hire you. What can this woman do? 

First Girl. I can sweep, make the beds and wash the dishes. 

Grandm. What can you do, my good woman ? 

Second Girl, I'm a cook, mum. 

Grandm. I might possibly find some scouring or cooking for 
these women, but I do not allow trailed skirts in my kitchen. 

Grandf. I should want to take a feather-duster to all three be- 
fore I took them in. Rover, why don't you drive them off : don't 
you know they are tramps ? ifhe children laugh. The Boy eats 
Ids bread, the Girl her pie, bid the child with the cold potato 
looks at it in a sorrowful manner. There is a silence of two 
or three minutes. ) 

Second Girl, 0, grandma, I want a piece of pie, too ! 

CURTAIN. 



A TABLEAU.— -OUR SINGING SCHOOL." 

Tlie music teacher should be standing, and in the act of beat- 
ing time ; his pupils, both boys and girls, should either sit or 



SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS." 161 

stand so that their faces may be seen b}^ the audience. The faces 
should be ridiculously distorted. Some should be singing, appar- 
ently, the very highest notes possible, and otliers the very lowest. 
To obtain the right expression, attempt to sing these very high 
and very low notes, and observe the position of the muscles of 
the face. The expression must be exa.ii:gerated. By a little in- 
genuit3% this picture can be made very pleasing. An instru- 
mental accompaniment to some familiar tune, played during the 
pantomime, will add to the eflect of the tableau, which should be 
shown twice. 



A SCHOOL-GIRL'S STRATEGY.— A Dialogue. 

Scene I.— Dr. Stone's study. Dr. Stone's assistant teacher s. 
Miss Brown and Miss Pincer, sit at a table correcting com- 
positions. 

Enter Dr. Stone. 

Dr. Stone. Well, ladies, how do you like our new pupil, Nellie 
Thorpe ? 

Miss Pincer. Why, Dr. Stone, she is a perfect treasure ! She 
is such a bright, clever creature ; study is very easy to her, and 
she is so generous and sympathetic that every girl in school 
seems to love her. 

Miss Brown. And oh, Dr. Stone, we think she diplays rare 
talent for composition! Just think what a treasure she will 
prove in such a seminary as ours ! 

Br. S. You don't mean to say there is a pupil in Albany Sem- 
inary that can write a decent composition ; do you ? 

Miss B. Indeed I do. You know you have been absent Wed- 
nesday mornings, for two weeks, when the compositions were 
read. I never heard such compositions read in this school be- 
fore. 

Br. S. Well, I am thankful if we have even one pupil that can 
write anything fit to be called a composition. Our exercises on 
Wednesday mornings have long been a digrace to this insti- 
tution. I was greatly mortified last month when Judge Hardy 



162 SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS." 

came in one Wednesday morning. There were only twelve out 
of our seveuty-five pupils that were prepared in composition. 
And such compositions ! All the rest of our pupils were sick 
with headaches, toothaches, neuralgia or something of the kind. 
I was sure I saw Judge Hardy smile, and I did not wonder. 

Miss P. Sick! sick! that is always the excuse! but I notice 
our pupils nearly always recover by Wednesday noon, so that 
they are able to eat a very large quantity of roast beef and apple 
pie. 

Br. S. Well, I do hope Nellie Thorpe will have a good influence 
over our scholars, especially in reference to compositions. 

Miss P. I think she will. 

CURTAIN. 

Scene II. — Dr. Stone's study. The Doctor sits at table, looking 
very much perjolexed, with an extremely large ^jile of com- 
positions before him. 

Enter Miss Beown and Miss Pincer. 

Br. 8. Be seated, if you please, young ladies. I wish to con- 
sult you. I am greatly perplexed. Look at that pile of com- 
positions. I notice the number of our valetudinarians is rapidly 
decreasing in our school. Wednesday morning ailments are be- 
coming less and less frequent. 

Miss P. I have noticed the fact with a great deal of satisfaction. 
Our *• invalid corps," I trust, is a thing of the past. 

Br. 8. It is a grateful change, I admit, but there are some 
things rather puzzling. Here, for instance, are two compositions; 
one from Kate Kearns and the other from Abby Blair. We all 
know very well they are the dullest girls in our school. They 
have never before done anything but invent excuses for writing 
compositions ; now they come promptly with their essays every 
week. Look at this pile of compositions. Here are essays by 
Lizzie Smith. Cornelia Jones, Jennie Howard and a host of others, 
who have always, until now, been too lazy to write compositions. 

Miss B. Do you attribute this wonderful change entirely to the 
good influence of your new pupil, Nellie Thorpe ? 

Br. S. 1 do, decidedly. There is still another point to which I 



SCHOOL ''EXHIBmONS." 163 

wish to call your attention. Tliere is a very marked improve- 
ment in tlie style and matter of the essays as well. Such com- 
monplace and trite subjects as *' Passing Away" and **The 
March of Time" are made by our dullest pupils not only endur- 
able but almost interesting. There is an airiness and piquancy 
about them that command attention. Does it seem to you that 
everything is right ? 

Miss P. I must confess I have had misgivings for some time. 
We have no proof, however. 

Dr. 8. It will not be best to do or say anything just at present; 
only wait and watch, 

CURTAIN. 

Scene III.— Nellie Thorpe's 7*oom, 'Neljae sits at table writ- 
ing. There is a knock at the door. 

Nellie, Come in. 

Cornelia Jones enters, 

Cornelia, Good evening, Nellie. 

Nell. Good evening, Cornelia. Take a seat. Are your lessons 
all prepared for to-morrow ? 

Cor, Oh, no ; but I can learn them easily enough in study 
hours. You need not pretend to be so innocent ; you know very 
well what the trouble is. To-morrow is composition day, and 
you know very well if my essay is written you will have to do it. 

Nell, Didn't I tell you last week that I couldn't write so many 
compositions for j'ou girls? I really haven't the time to spare, 
and, besides, my conscience troubles me ; I believe I am doing 
wrong. 

Cor. Oh, yes, do help me just this time, that's a dear, good 
girl. Perhaps I won't ask you next week. 

Nell. That is just what you always say, Cornelia. I must put 
a stop to this business, and it might as well be to-night as any 
time. 

Cor. Here are some very nice caramels I bought for j^ou this 
afternoon. They are just delicious, {she hands^EUAE a piece of 
candy) Now you just tell me what to write, as you eat the cara- 
mels. 



164 SCHOOL " EXHiBrnoxs." 

Ifell No. I shall do nothing of the kind. I would a great deal 
ratlier write the coniposilioii myself than tell yon how to do it ; 
so huiul over your paper, hut mind, it must he the last time. I 
presume you will repent of asking me to write this one. (she 
takes the jHiper and ber/ins to write. The door opens and three 
girls enter with portfolios in hand) I really haven^t time to help 
you this evening, girls, for I have my botany lesson to learn, and 
1 must do a little sewing, too. The lace is all torn off my 

Clara, Now. Nell, you mustn't say you won't help us. There's 
a dear, good girl. 

Jennie, We'll sew your lace on, and do anything else youw:;nt 
us to. if you'll only write our compositions. That will be simply 
an exchange of work, {she goes to the closet, takes down the 
dresSf Jinds a needle and thread and begins to work.) 

Annie. Oh, do write our compositions for us just this time. 
You know it is no trouble whatever for you to write, but it's siicij 
a dreadful bore for us. 

Xell. You, girls, are the biggest nuisances I know of, and 1 
feel that my delicate constitution will no longer bear the onerous 
duties you impose upon it. My failing appetite warns mo 
that 

Clai'a. Failing appetite ! That's good. Why, you ate two im- 
mense slabs of beef for dinner, and I know Miss Pincer thought 
you had more than your share of the pudding. 

Jen, Come, Nellie, you can write :the compositions while you 
are talking al)Out them. 

Nell. You are the most i)ersistent girls I ever knew. I told 
you last week not to come again. I feel as if I were acting a 
very mean part. Last Weilnesday, when all those people were 
present, I was obliged to sit quietly and hear about lifty of my 
own compositions read. What do you suppose Dr. Stone would 
have said had he known the truth ? I tell you what it is, girl>, 
our consciences will all become hardened if we go on in this way, 
and if you have no intention of putting a stop to this thing, I 
have. 

Jen, Oh, dear, why don't you stop talking and begin to write? 

Ann. Come, Nellie, do oblige us just this time. 

Xell. I tfll you what it is, girls, I will write your compositions 



SCHOOL " EXHIBITIONS." 165 

for you this time if you roully iiiHirfL upon it, but I warn you that 
you vviil nil iv^riit ovit iuiviug iialcod mo. 

AIL Wo will talco tlio risk. 

NelL Will you promiso not to show your compositions to each 
other? 

All. Oh, yes, we'll promiso. 

.1 little girl named Julia enters on tip-toe, goes behind Nellie 
iDul throws her arms around her neck and /cissca her. 

Jidia. Oh, Nellie, please do write mo just a fow lines about 
Winter. 

Nell. Why, pot, what do you want me to say about WlntiT. 

Julia, Oil, I don't care one l)it what you say. You know you 
have written for me sometliinu; about Spring, Summer and Au- 
tumn, and I tliouLi:ht perhaps Dr. Stone would expect to hear 
somethinti; about Winter this time. 

Nell. Don't you know, Julia dear, that I intend to stop this 
business of writing: otiior pooplo's compositioiiH? 

Jnlin. Oh, Nellie, ploast^ don't! What could all of ud littlo 
girls do? 

Here a long Untt <>/ girls enter. 

First Oirl. Good evening, Nollio. Here comes your composi- 
tion corps. 

Nell. 80 I see. I liave throat(Mn*d for a long time to end this 
thing, and now I am about to lait tiiose threats into cxecutiou. 

CURTAIN. 

Scene IV, — The stage should be arraiiged as nearly as possible 
to represent a school-room. The teachers, puj/ils and 
severed visitors are present for the purpose of listening to 
the essays. 

Dr. 8. We will now listen to an essay by Miss Cornolia Jones. 
(Cornelia passes to the jtroper place, bows, and reads tha fol- 
io wi)ig essay.) 

Cornelia Joiies. Tho Sun-dew. The little marsh |)1 int called 



166 BCHOOL " EXHIBITIONS," 

siui-dew is pretty, with its small round leaves fringed with crim- 
son hairs, each headed with a tiny drop of dew, which looks cool 
and sparkling all through the hot dnys of summer. 

** A little marsh-plant, yellow-green, 
And pricked at lip with tender red ; 
Tread close, and either way you tread. 
Some faint black water sets between. 
Lest you should harm the tender head. 

*• You call it sun-dew ; how it grows. 

If with its color it hath breath. 

If life taste sweet to it, if death 

Pain its soft petal, no man knows ; 

Man has no sight nor sense that saith." 

The minute drops of harmless dew which adorn every hair, or 
tentacle, as Mr. Darwin calls the crimson filaments, from the use 
to which they are applied, is, in reality, a drop of very viscid se- 
cretion, surrounding an extremely sensitive gland. 

Attracted either by the glitter, or possibly by some honeyed 
odor, or whatever mysterious instinct it is that draws the child 
to the unwholesome sweet, insects alight on the leaf. 

If the delicate feet of the smallest gnat do but touch one of the 
drops of dew at the end of a single filament, its doom is sealed. 

Caught by the tenacious secretion, with the sensations one 
would imagine in this strange world of insect peril of a child 
stuck up bodily to a gigantic buU's-ej'e to whose attractions it 
has incautiously yielded, in vain it endeavors to escape. 

According to Dr. Nitschke, insects are generally killed in about 
a quarter of an hour, suffocated in the secretion. 

On one leaf alone, Darwin found the remains of thirteen flies, 
and as a single plant has some six or seven leaves, and the plant 
itself is very abundant, the tale of the slain must be enormous. 

As Cornelia Jones Jimshes her comj)OSiUon and hows^ the door 
02)6718 sofllij and Clara enters. 

Dr. S. You are late this morning, Clara. You need not take 



SCHOOL ** EXHIBITIONS." 167 

your seat just yet; we will listen to your essay first. (Clara takes 
her place, botes and reads.) 

Clara. The Sun-dew. The little marsh plant called sun-dew is 
pretty, with its small round leaves fringed with crimson hair, each 
headed with a tiny drop of dew, which looks cool, etc. (Clara 
reads her essay through, which 2oroves to he exactly like the one 
read by Cornelia Jones. ) 

Dr. K Miss Pincer, where is Jennie Thompson ? 

Miss P. Her mother called to see her a short time since. 

Dr. S. I will be obliged to you if you will go to the reception 
room and call Jennie. Invite her mother to come and hear the 
essays read. (Miss Pincer leaves the room but soon returns with 
Jennie and her mother. Dr. Stone gives the mother a seat) 
Jennie, we are waiting to hear your essay. (Jennie takes her 
'place, bows and reads. ) 

Jen. The Sun-dew. The little marsh plant called sun-dew is 
prett5% with its small round leaves fringed with crimson hairs, 
each headed, etc. (Jennie reads the essay, which proves to be 
precisely like the other's.) 

Dr. S. Miss Annie Wilson may read next. (Annie pw^5 her 
face on the desk and cries) Come, Annie, we are waiting. 

Ann. Oh, I can't, Dr. Stone, I can't ; I am sick ! 

Dr. S. Miss Pincer, you may read the essay for Annie. 

Miss P. The Sun-dew. The little marsh plant called sun-dew 
is pretty, etc. (Miss Pincer reads the essay through, which 
proves to be precisely like the others.) 

Dr. 8. Helen Fengar, we will hear your essay next 

Helen. I can't read it. 

Dr. 8. Why not? 

Helen. Because it is on the floor. 

Dr. 8. Pick it up. 

Helen. I have torn it into little pieces. 

Dr. 8. You may tell us the subject of j^our composition. (Helen 
is silent) Speak ! 

Helen. The Sun-dew. 

Dr. 8. There seems to have been a most marked unanimity of 
thought between many of our pupils this week, Vmt perliaps Miss 
Celia Macfarlane, who will now read, will favor us with some- 



163 SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS." 

thing different. (Celia looks very much confused and half ris^ 
ing speaks.) 

Celia. I am not prepared. 

Dr. S. We cannot accept that excuse, Miss Celia. When I 
called the roll, you said you were prepared. How is it that you 
now say you are not? I have the best reason to suppose tliat 
you have an essay this week, inasmuch as one bearing* your 
name was handed to me last evening for correction. Your topic, 
if I remember rights, was *'The Sun-dew," and began after this 
style, **The little marsh plant called sun-dew is pretty, '' etc. We 
will next listen to an essay by Miss Patty Spencer. 

Patty. I haven^t anj^ sir — that is— I mean I tore it up. 

Br. S. Well, pick up the pieces and see if you cannot read the 
essay. 

Patty. I can't, sir : it's all in little scraps : but if you'll excuse 
me this time, doctor, I'll do better after this. (Patty begins to 
cry.) 

Dr. S. As you have destroyed it, of course you cannot read it ; 
but you can at least tell us the subject of your essay, (a lo7ig 
pause) Tell us the subject, Patty. 

Patty. It was about— about ** The Sun-dew." 

Dr. S. Perhaps we had better close this exercise here. I had 
intended to make some remarks to all these young ladies who 
have been devoting themselves so assiduously to " The Sun-dew" 
the past week, but I think perhaps they have been sufficiently 
punished. I will only give them tliis piece of advice, — always 
write your own compositions in future. 

CURTAIN. 



JUNE KOSES,— A Recitation. 

Three little sunbonnets all in a row, 

Under the hedge where the June roses blow ; 

Under the sunbonnets three little faces, 

Where dimples and smiles leave their own sunny traces ; 

My little rosebuds, all playing together 

Under the roses, in sweet Juny weather.^ 



SCHOOL ** EXHIBITIONS." 169 

Gayly the robin bis morning-song sings, 

Pluming and stretching liis feuthers and wings ; 

Gayly the bees seek their favorite red clover, 

While sunbeams are spreading the green meadows over; 

And sweetest of all the sweet sounds that I liear 

Ts the musical laugh of my little ones dear. 

Six little hands that are twining the roses 

AVith daisies and buttercups, nature's sweet posies ; 

Making a wreath just as bright as can be 

For a certain mamma, 'Tls a secret, you see ; 

But a wee little butterfly, flying this way, 

Told mamma the secret, if truth she must say. 

O, fragrant June roses ! not sweeter are ye 
Than the rosebuds the Father has given to me. 
God grant they may grow 'neath the sunshine of love 
Into all that is pure from the garden above ; 
Their dear hearts be guarded from evil's sad power 
Till the buds blossom out in the full, perfect flower. 

Three little sunbonnets all in a row, 

Under the hedge wl>ere the June roses blow ; 

Three little faces, all laughing, I see, 

Throwing sweet kisses so gayly to me,— 

Dearly I love them, my blossoms so fair, 

My children, whose joys and whose sorrows I share! 



KEEPING STILL.— A Dialogue. 

Chabacters. 

Grandmother, an old lady. Auntie, a middle-aged spinster, 

Rob, an irrepressible little hoy. 

Scene. — A sittiwj-room. Aunt seated sewing, 
Rob enters riding on a cane. 

Aunt, 0, Rob ! Carry that old stick into the shed, and do keep 
still. 



170 SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS," 

Rob, That isn't an old stick. That's a lioss, auntie ! 

Aunt. I don't wonder your mother's sick, if you are as noisy 
as this at home. You must keep still here, Rob, or you'll make 
me crazy. (Rob candies out his stick and soon begins to ring a 
large bell. Finally he enters his Aunt's room, still ringing the 
hell.) 

Bob. Pay your fare ! Come to the cabin and pay your fare ! 

Aunt. Now, Rob, you will craze me ! Give me the bell and 
sit down on that little chair and keep still. (Bob .92^.9 dovm, looks 
very sorroicfid, folds his hands, sighs, and is silent a moment.) 

Bob. 0, auntie dear, I do pity stones so ! 

Aunt. Pity stones ! what for, Robbie? 

Bob. 'Cause they have to keep so still all their lives. I am so 
glad I ain't a stone ! 

Aunt. There is no danger of your turning into a stone, Rob ; 
you don't keep still long enough. 

Bob. Oh ! dear ! how stones must ache, keeping still alwaj^s. 
I ache now, just in this little speck of time. I'm ghid I ain't a 
fence, nor a tree, nor a rag-baby that caj;i't move till somebody 
pulls it ! 0, auntie, my head aches, and my hands and feet are 
cold, and my eyes are crooked, keeping slill such a long time! 

Aunt. Your mouth is all right, little boy. That has not kept 

still at all. 

Grandma enters. 

G7'andma. Why, what is the matter, Robbie ; are you sick? 

Bob. 0, grandma, I'm all hard. I've been sitting still such an 
awful long time. 

Au72t. Two minutes. 

Bob. 0, auntie, it's an hour, an aw^ful long hour, and I'm all 
asleep but my head ! Can't I get up, say ? 

Grandma. Yes, you may come up in my room and make a 
train of cars with the chairs. 

Bob. Won't you be crazy, grandma? 

Grandma. No, my dear ; noise does not trouble me much. It 
is a good plan, however, for little boys to learn to be still, so 
that they will not trouble those who are sick. To-morrow morn- 
ing, I wish you to fold your hands and sit still one minute, and 
do the same again iu the afternoon. We will call that your ** lea- 



SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS." 171 

son in silence." Bj^-and-by you can sit still two. three and even 
five minutes, to please those who do not like a noise. 

Rob. Yes, grandma dear, I will : but I hope mamma will soon 
be well, rm so tired of keeping still. 

CURTAIN, 



THE SPELLING LESSON.— A Dialogue. 

Chakactebs. 

Lulu [ ^^^ little girls. 

Two Utile girls sit at table. The older is hearing the younger 
recite her spelling lesson, 

Lina. Orchard ! — spell it, Lulu, quick ! 

Tm sure that's easy enough to spell. 
Lulu. Of course the word is easy enough, 

And I can spell it very well ; 

But, Lina, oh, I tell 3'ou what ! 

I cannot think of books to-day, 

For just that word has made me think 

Of the orchard where we used to play. 

And don't you know we climbed so high 

Up in the crooked apple-trees, 

That 

Lina, Never mind, do hurry up 

And say your lesson, Lulu, please, 

For I have mine to say to j'ou 

After we're through with yours, j'ou know. 

Oh, dear ! it is such stupid work, 

Down that long line of words to go ! 
Lulu. Well, o-r-c-h-a-r-d ; 
Lina. And what does it mean ? 
Lulu. Well, let me see ; 

It's a beautiful place where apples grow 

For boys and girls to eat, you know, 



172 SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS." 

And belongs to grandpa, far awaj^ 

In the lovely country, where we play 

Lina, 0, Lulu, do be serious, please, 

And don't waste time in being a tease. 

Lulu, But, Lina, don't you truly wish 

We might have had just one week more 

Of glad vacation, ere we're called 

To study lessons o'er and o'er ? 

How can I study when my mind 

Is full of butterflies and bees, 

And brooks and swings and meadow-lields, 

And grandpa's crooked apple-trees ? 

I can spell orchard, if j^ou like, 
But cannot any further go, 
Because I shut my ej^es and think 
I'm in the country yet, j'ou know. 
So put the spelling-book away ; 
I do not like to think of school. 
I wish for little girls like us 
A yearns vacation were the rule. 

M. D. Brine. 

CURTAIN. 



The next exercise will be a recitation by Miss , entitled 

** CURFEW MUST NOT RING TO-NIGHT.'* 

England's sun was slowly setting o'er the hills so far away. 

Filling all the land with beauty at the close of one sad day ; 

And the last rays kissed the forehead of a man and maiden fair. 

He with steps so slow and weakened, she with sunny, floating 
hair ; 

He with sod bowed head, and thoughtful, she with lips so cold 
and wlute, 

StrucTirlins: to keep back the murmur, ** Curfew must not ring to- 
night. '^ 



SCHOOL ''EXHIBITIONS." 173 

** Sexton," Bessie's white lips faltered, pointing to the prison old. 
With its walls so dark and gloomy, —wails so dark and damp and 

cold, — 
"Tve a lover in that prison, doomed this very night to die, 
At the ringing of the Curfew, and no earthly help is nigh. 
Cromwell will not come till sunset," and her face grew strangely 

white 
As she spoke in husky whisper, *' Curfew must not ring to-night." 

"Bessie," calmly spoke the sexton—every word pierced her 

young heart 
Like a thousand gleaming arrows — like a deadly poisoned dart ; 
**Long, long years I've rung the Curfew from that gloomy 

shadowed tower ; 
Every evening, just at sunset, it has told the twilight hour ; 
I have done my duty ever, tried to do it just and right. 
Now I'm old, I will not miss it ; girl, the Curfew rings to-night I " 

Wild her eyes and pale her features, stern and white her 

thoughtful brow, 
And within her heart's deep centre, Bessie made a solemn vow. 
She had listened while the judges read, without a tear or sigh, 
** At the ringing of the Curfew— Basil Underwood Qnust die,^^ 
And her breath came fast and faster, and her eyes grew large 

and bright— 
One low murmur, scarcely spoken— ''Curfew 7?ii^5^ wo^ ring to- 
night ! " 

She with light step bounded forward, sprang within the old 
church door, 

Left the old man coming slowly, paths he trod so oft before ; 

Not one moment paused the maiden, but with cheeks and brow 
aglow. 

Staggered up the gloomy tower, where the bell swung to and 
fro ; 

Then she climbed the slimy ladder, dark, without one ray of light. 

Upward still, her pale lips saying, "Curfew shall not ring to- 
night." 



174 SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS.'' 

She has reached the topmost ladder, o'er her hangs the great 
dark bell, 

AikI the awful gloom beneath her, like the pathway down to 
hell ; 

See, the ponderous tongue is swinging, 'tis the hour of Curfew 
now — 

And the sight has chilled her bosom, stopped her breath and 
paled her brow. 

Shall she let it ring? No, never! Her eyes flash with sudden 
light, 

As she springs and grasps it firmly—*' Curfew shall not ring to- 
night! " 

Out she swung, far out, the city seemed a tiny speck below ; 
There, 'twixt heaven and earth suspended, as the bell swung to 

and fro ; 
And the half-deaf sexton ringing (years he had not heard the 

bell). 
And he thought the twilight Curfew rang young Basil's funeral 

knell ; 
Still the maiden clinging firmly, cheek and brow so pale and 

white. 
Stilled her frightened heart's wild beating — '^Curfew shall not 

ring to-nigliV 

It was o'er— the bell ceased swaying, and the maiden stepped 

once more 
Firmly on the damp old ladder, where for hundred j^ears before 
Human foot had not been planted ; and what she this night had 

done. 
Should be told in long years after — as the rays of setting sun 
\ Light the sky with mellow beaut}^ aged sires with heads of 

white, 
Tell their children why the Curfew did not ring that one sad 

night. 

O'er the distant hills came Cromwell ; Bessie saw him, and her 

brow. 
Lately white with sickening terror, glows with sudden beauty 

now; 



SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS." 175 

At his feet she told her story, showed her hands all bruised and 

torn ; 
And her sweet young face so haggard, with a look so sad and 

worn, 
Touched his heart with sudden pitv— lit his eyes with misty 

light ; 
** Go, your lover lives ! " cried Cromwell ; '* Curfew shall not ring 

to-night." 

Rose Hartwick Thorpe. 



The next exercise will be a dialogue, entitled 
THE OLD COUSIN ; 

OR, YOU SHOULD NOT JUDGE THE TREE BY THE BARK. 
[Adapted from the French'of Emile Souvestre.] 

BY ANNIE I. B. MAY. 

Characters. 

Mrs. Landon, a widow with two daughters, 

Eugenia, he7' daughter, sixteen years old. 

Caroline, her daughter, somewhat literary, fourteen years 
old. 

Betty, a cook, somewhat coquettish, forty-Jive years old, and 
very talkative. 

Kitty Durant, cousin of Mrs. Landon, fifty years old, and 
deformed. 

The scene is laid in the neighborhood of Boston. The stage represents a 
parlor in the country, doors at the end, right and left, chairs and footstools. 
At the right and left centre-tables and writing materials. At the left a man- 
tel-piece upon which is a glass and a clock. 

Scene L — Eugenia seated near a centime-table at the right, 
looking into a rhyming dictionary. 

Eugenia {looking at the clock). Three o'clock alread3% and 
these verses for mamma's birthday not finished ! The rhymes 
and the measure are what trouble me. If it were not for thQ 



176 SCHOOL "EXHIBITION'S." 

measure and rhymes, I could make verses so easiU'. M( rcj' ! I 
wish I could finish. The commencement is so good. There is 
something majestic and noble— {she 7^eads with emphasis) 

For a monarch's birthday-feast his flattering courtiers sing 
A thousand sounding wishes for the glory of his throne ; 
But to a tender mother the dearest wish to bring 
Is— 

Now what is the dearest wish to a mother? It must be some- 
thing that rhymes to throne, {she looks into the dictionary) 
Here, tone! No, not that. Bone— wot yet; I cannot go and 
wish her a bone. Stone — groan— thrown, [she shuts the diction- 
ary ill-humoredly) I have not one idea which gives me a rhyme, 
and I cannot find a rhyme which gives me an idea. It is not 
worth while to have a rhyming dictionary. 

Enter Caroline by the door on the left, her shoulders covered 
with a dressing-gown thrown over her dress. She is 
arranging her hair. 

Caroline. O, Eugenia, such a distressing thing ! 

Bug. What do you mean ? 

Car. You know I sent John to borrow a head-dress from Miss 
St. Clair for me ? 

Eug. Well? 

Car. Well, Miss St. Clair has gone back to Boston. 

Eug. AVell, you will have to arrange your hair without a head- 
dress. 

Car. Arrange my hair without a head-dress ! You want me 
to represent a Muse with nothing on my head ! Ridiculous ! If 
I have no head-dress, your verses will be abominable. 
'^ Eug. Don't be uneasy ; I do not believe they will be composed, 
and you will not need to be dressed as a Muse. 

Car. {arranging her hair before the mirror on the left). The 
idea ! My costume is too becoming to be given up. I shall 
wear it, no matter what happens. It is more important to have 
a head-dress than to recite some stanzas. Look ! how do the 
Muses arrange their hair? Chinese fashion or Mary Stuart 
Style? (sh^ a'n'Q,nge9 h^hair l^eforQ tha mirror.) 



SCHOOL ** EXHIBITIONS." 177 

Eug. See here, Caroline ; you would do much better if you 
would let me finish my verses, and go and attend to other things 
yourself. 

Car. Oh ! Betty has taken charge of other preparations. 

fug, Betty is certainly obliging enough ; but, you know, when 
^ she begins to talk, time flies without her knowledge ; especially 
when she talks about Mrs. Leroy of New York. 

Car. Mamma suspects nothing, and has gone walking to the 
post-office for letters, 

Eug, Now, if nobody disturbs us with a visit 

Car, Nobody will come. As soon as August arrives all our 
friends fall sick and are obliged to go to watering-plcces. {sighing) 
We are obliged to be well, because mamma has this little house 
here, where she likes to spend the warm weather. She ought to 
know that it is not stylish to like the country now. It is con- 
sidered very bad taste. 

Betty runs in at the door on the right. She has butter and eggs 
in a basket. 

Betty {talking very rapidly). I cannot find John anywhere, 
and I wanted to send him on an errand. Look, young ladies ; 
these are for my side-dish — the famous cream which Mrs. Leroy 
always said had not its equal in the thirty-six quarters of the 
globe. It seems that it was invented in England, where they 
make everything by machinery, even plum-pudding. 

Eug. {intending to induce Betty to go away to work). We de- 
pend upon 5'ou, Betty ; we know you are a famous cook. 

Betty. Exactly so— a numl)er-one cook ; and to prove it, Mrs. 
Leroy, who had taken her four meals in the high and low courts 
of Europe, declared that I need not be afraid of anybody in mak- 
ing any well-known dish. There is only one dish in which I 
never could succeed, and I wmild give two fingers to make it. It 
is called *' floating island," a dish invented in England, a savage 
country, like all places outside of Boston. 

Car. You were born in one of those places, however, my 
friend. 

Betty (provoked). Tliat is true ; but nobody is responsible for 
the misfortune of her birth. 



178 SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS." 

Eitg, {decidedly). I can work better somewhere else, {she 
starts to go out at the door on the left, hut starts hack) Ab ! 
there is mamma. 

Betty. Hide everytliing. {she lays her apron upon the basket 
she calories) Tal^e ofl' the dressing-gown, Miss Caroline. 

Car. How shall I keep mamma from seeing it? Ah! under 
your apron, {she thirsts her dressing -gown under the apron.) 

Betty. Well, well ! you put it on the fresh butter. 

Eug. (who has pushed the papers into the pocket of her aprouy 
looks for a place to put the dictionary). Where shall I put it? 
{runs to Betty) Take care she does not see it. {she thrusts it un- 
Betty's arm.) 

Betty. Good gracious ! You will break the eggs, {uncovering 
the hasket) Look there. 

Eug. Hide that, do. 

Mes. Lakdon, entering at the end, holding a letter in hei' hand. 

Mrs. Landon, Do I disturb you, children ? 

Eug. [embarrassed). Why, mamma ? 

Car. {in the same manner). Not at all. 

Betty. Certainly ; you are just in time, {aside to Eugenia) 
They are broken, miss ; I feel them trickling. 

Eug. Hush, hush ! 

Mrs, L. I have some news to tell you about our old cousin, 
Kitty Durant, whose brother had just died after gaining a law- 
suit in which he was engaged with me for fifteen j'ears. This 
letter tells me she is coming here. 

Betty {frightened). Wlia-t! the dead man? 

Mrs. L. Oh, no ; his sister. Bettj', see yourself that her room 
is arranged. She is coming to-daj'. 

Betty. Yes, ma'am, {aside) Here is a stumbling-block ! {aloud) 
Yes, ma'am ; I am going, {aside) And my cream not begun, and 
the eggs trickling and trickling, {aloud) Yes, ma'am, {aside) 
Mrs. Leroy was right in saying misfortunes never come singly. 
{she goes out at the right. Mrs. L. remains alone a moment, 
xohile Eugenia and Caroline go toward the end of the stage and 
talk in low voices. ) 

Mrs. L. This unexpected arrival disturbs all the plans. These 



SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS." 179 

poor children will, have great trouble preparins; a surprise for 
me. When I am alone I can shut my ej'es and keep out of the 
way ; but this cousin will be an o')3tacle. (Eugenu and Caro- 
line coming back with signs of vexation.) 

Eitg. How does it happen, mamma, that Miss Durant is com- 
ing to see us without an invitation ? 

Mrs. L. She thought the relationship a sufficient reason ; and 
I have decided to receive her with all the politeness due to a 
guest. I had cause to complain of her brother, but the sister 
took no part in the law-suit. 

Eug. What will we do with a cousin from the country? 

Car. I am sure she wears yarn gloves. 

Eug. And can talk of nothing but butter-making. 

Mrs. L. Come, children ! I too should have preferred to avoid 
this visit ; but let us make the best of it. 

Eug. O, mamma, I cannot ! 

Car. Nor I. 

Eug. A person whose name I have never heard except in con- 
nection with that law-suit. 

Gar. And who invites herself to our house! 

Mrs. L. {seriously). As well as I remember Miss Durant, she 
does not deserve all this abuse. Politeness is a duty ; and her 
infirmity gives her a greater claim to our consideration, 

Eug. What infirmity? 

Mrs. L. Well, she is deformed. 

Eug. And they say deformed people are so malicious ! 

Car. And they are so ugly ! 

Mrs. L. {seriously). Take care, children ; what is most malic- 
ious and ugly is want of pity for misfortune, and a selfishness 
which makes us ill-natured when we are disturbed. Do not for- 
get the affection and respect due to a member of the family who 
is coming to seek our hospitality ; and, however inconvenient the 
arrival of our old cousin, take care she does not see that it is 
so. 

Eug. I beg your pardon, mamma. 

Car. We did not mean to ofiend you. 

Mrs. L. I know it. But above all, if anything in her dress or 
person seems to be ridiculous, take care not to laugh. 



180 SCHOOL "exhibitions." 

Eug. (aside). Thought is free, at any rate. 
Ca7\ We will bite our lips, mamma. 
Mrs. L, Listen ! I hear voices. 

Betty ru7is in at the right 

Betty. Here is the cousin from the country ! Oh, young ladies, 
she must be dressed in the latest style from Congo ! A hat like 
an umbrella, a cloak trimmed with fox-tails, an apple-green 
dress 

Mrs. L. Enough, Betty. 

Car. (peeping out at the door at the end). She has a parrot. 

Eug. (peeping also). And a little dog. 

Betty. A menagerie is coming. (Mrs. L. looks at her severely) 
I will hush, ma'am. (Mes. L. goes out to greet the Old Cousin) 
Oh, if Mrs. Leroy had seen that, she would have laughed till her 
sides ached. (pee2')ing) And she has a back like a round loaf of 
bread, (she lauglis, hut stops suddenly as Mrs. L. enters) Oh ! 

Eyiter Mrs. L. and the Old Cousin at the end. Eugenia and 
Caroline have gone up to [the left. The Old Cousin is de- 
formedy dressed in a grotesque travelling-dress ; she car- 
ries in her left hand a cage in which is a pjarrot^ and un- 
der her right arm a little dog. 

Mrs. Z. Come in, Miss Durant ; I bid j'ou welcome. 

Old Cousin. Thank you, my dear Mrs. Landon. I arrive like a 
thunder-clap, without an invitation ; but I hope you will pardon 
me. Where are your daughters? 

Mrs. L. Come here, Eugenia and Caroline. (Eugenia a7id 
Caroline bow.) 

Old C. Do not bow to me. (going to them) Come and kiss me. 

E7fg. {kissing her). Excuse me. 

Car. (kissing her). Miss Durant. 

Old C. {passing to the right to put the cage on the centre-table, 
and seeing Bbtty) kvi(\. this is the nurse. Good morning, my 
friend. She has a pleasant face. 

Betty (courtesy ing). Good morning, miss, (aside) At least she 
has crood taste. 



SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS." 181 

Mrs, L. Miss Durant, permit me to relieve you. 

Old C. Of my dog and parrot? Tliank you. (Mrs. L. takes the 
dog) It must seem absurd to travel with a collection of ani- 
mals ; but one must have some society, {seeing Eugenia and 
Caeoline turn away to laugh) Ah ! that amuses my little 
cousins. 

Mrs. L. Do not suppose 

Old C, Do not try to excuse them. I understand that they are 
surprised at my friendship for Spot ; but he resembles me. He 
is not handsome, but he has some good qualities. First, he is 
grateful for what is done for him ; and then he never makes fun 
of my misfortunes. There are many persons who are not so 
considerate. (Eugenia arid Caroline embarrassed, ) 

Mrs. L, Will you let Betty carry the cage also ? 

Old C. No ; Jocko is too troublesome for other people to be 
annoyed with him. 

Betty, Oh, no ; these birds are so interesting. My mother 
had one which talked like ten people. I was brought up with 
him. You shall see how your parrot and I agree, {to the parrot) 
Don't you think so, Jocko? Good day. Do yoxx know me, 
Jocko ? 

The Parrot {very loudly). Chatterbox ! 

Betty. What! {everybody laughs,) 

Old G. Well, you asked him if he knew you. 

Mrs, L. Your room is ready. Perhaps you will like to change 
your dress. 

Old C. Thank you. {to Eugenia and Caroline) We shall meet 
again, my dears ; and do not call me miss ; call me by my name, 
Old Cousin Kitty, (as the Old Cousin passes Betty, the parrot 
cries out ** Chatterbox ! ") Be still, sir! Do people say all they 
think ? (she goes out at the right with Mrs. L.) 

Betty. That is an impudent bird ! He does not give a very higli 
idea of the people who have charge of his education. (Eugenia 
and Caroline stand opposite each other and exchange looks.) 

Bug, Well? 

Gar, And that is a country cousin ! 

Betty. Did I deceive you, young ladies, about her dress ? 

Bug, When we go out with her, everybody will stare as if a 
circus were coming. 



182 SCHOOL "exhibitions." 

Betty, Without counting her parrot and dog. Unprincipled 
beasts ! 

Eug. It will be impossible to read aloud in the evening. 

Car. Or to ride horseback. 

Eug. And she will keep mamma at home, so we cannot pre- 
pare for her birth-day. 

Car. I am not dressed yet. 

Eug. My verses are not composed. 

Betty. My cream is not made. 

Car. What a misfortune to have country cousins? 

Betty. Here she is ! 

Car. Already? 

Eug. I shall run ! {Stie goes out. 

Enter the Old Cousin. She Jias taken off her cloak and hat, 
wears a simple and suitable dress, and has a cap on. 

Old C. {holding a little jewel-case in her hand). Do not be 
afraid, children ; I did not come to disturb you. I want to help you. 
(she puts the jewel-case on the table at the right) John told me 
on the way that it was your mother's birth-day. 

Car, Hush ! she might hear. 

Old C. No ; 1 asked her to go out to pay for my ticket at the 
railroad office. 

Car. Then we are alone. 

Old C. But we must make haste, {to Betty) First, you must 
return to your stove. I saw splendid things there as I passed. 

Betty. You are very kind, but as to that I flatter myself I know 
everything that can be done with saucepans and oven. I suc- 
ceed equally with jellies, pastries, creams ; and I have never 
failed except in jloating island. 

Old C. Floating island ! I have a receipt for it which never 
fails, and I will write it for you and answer for its success. 

Betty. Oh, how thankful I am ! {to Caeoline) This proves edu- 
cation. 

Car. Yes, in cooking. 

Old C. {who is writing at the left). It seems, my dear Caroline, 
that John could not get what you wanted for your hair from 
your friend ; and fortunately I have in this casket some rows of 



SCHOOL ** EXHIBITIONS." 183 

pearls, and j^ou must look and see if thej^ will answer your pur- 
pose, {giving what she had written to Betty) There ! it is easy. 
It needs only confidence and — fresh eggs. 

Betty. Thank you, thank you ! If it will only succeed ! 

[She goes out at the right. 

Car. {who has opened the case). Oh, what an elegant neck- 
lace! 

Old C. You like it ? Then you must keep it. Remember, you 
owe obedience to an old relation. 

Car. Oh, I ought not deprive j^ou of it. 

Old C. Of jewelry for a ball ! You think me formed for danc- 
ing then ? 

Car. The pearls are so beautiful 

Old C. That they must not be hidden ; and you must have 
them. 

Car. But what can I have done to deserve 

Old C. That I love you ! Well, you are one of the familj% Do 
you count as nothing those ties of relationship which assure us 
protectors and friends before we can choose them for ourselves? 
Is it nothing to have name, interests and honor in common? 

Car. {confusedly). I have never thought of what you say. 

Old C. But now you know it ; you will take the necklace? 

Car. I do not know how to thank you. 

Old C. By hastening to put it on before your mother comes. 

Car. I shall fly. {she looks at the necJclace with rapture) Oh, 
what lovely pearls ! (tes^7^^ the Old Cousin) 0, cousin, how 
glad I am you came! \^Runs out. 

Old C. {alone). Poor child ! The sight of me frightened her. 
I know that Old Cousin Kitty has nothing attractive about her, 
and must be tolerated like a bitter medicine for her useful qual- 
ities. Ah ! here is the other one. I remember her uncle told me 
she is the blue-stocking of the family. 

Eugenia enters at the right unth a paper and pencil in her 
hand, without seeing the Old Cousin. 

Eug. I shall never do it ; this last line is so difllcult. 
Old C. {approaching her). May I see the first ones? 
Eug, {turning). Cousin! {she hides the paper.) 



184 SCHOOL "exhibitions." 

Old C. Oil, I know you have a weakness for poetry. I have 
seen a piece of your composition wliich your uncle had — an ad- 
dress to the moon. Every poet says sweet things to the moon. 
Happily she is so far away she can turn a deaf ear. 

Eug. You doubtless find that very foolish. 

Old C. To make verses ? 

Eug. Yes. 

Old C. I love poetry, and travelled with a volume of it in my 
hand. I have brought you two volumes of poetry by a neighbor 
of mine, with a parcel from the author ; and you shall have it on 
one condition. 

Eug. A parcel ! For me ? Oh, if I could see it ! What con- 
dition? 

Old C. That I may see what you have written. 

Eug. It is for mamma's birth-day. I wished to express our 
tenderness very simply. 

Old C. Let us see. 

Eug. {reading). 

For a monarch's birth-day feast his flattering courtiers sing 
A thousand sounding wishes for the glory of his throne ; 
But to a tender mother the dearest wish to bring 
Is— 

Old C. Well! {dictates.) 

Is for her children's welfare, far dearer than her own. 

Eug. Til ere ! that makes the verse. 

Old C. You had not found it then ? 

Eug. Weil — nearly. I wanted only the shape and the rhyme. 
But I had the idea. 

Old C. Then I guessed it? 

Eug. Precisely. Now if I could, while I am here, make a sec- 
ond stanza {she sits doicn before the table at the leftj and seems 

to consider.) 

Enter Betty with a dish. 

Betty. O, ladies, ladies ! Help ! help ! help ! 
Eug, What is the matter? 
Old C. What is it? 



SCHOOL *' EXHIBITIONS." 185 

Betty. Mj* floating island is gone ! My floating island is lostl 

Old C. Oh, you have frightened me so! 

Bettj/. I have followed the receipt, miss. Look ! there are six 
apples cut into boiling water ; four whites of eggs. I was going 
to put the rest 

Old 0. But instead of talking, beat the eggs. {sJie takes the 
dish and beats the eggs. ) 

Betty. There ! I talked a little to Johu. Perhaps that is the 
reason. 

Old C. Quick ! The other ingredients. 

Betty. Oh, yes ! \^She runs out at the right. 

Old C. Well, the second stanza? 

Eug. I am trying it. {she reads.^ 

But to a tender mother the dearest wish to bring 

Is for her children's welfare, far dearer than her own. 

Old C. {dictating). 

Rejoice, 0, you who make us glad 

Eug. That is it. 

Betty, {coming in with sugar and orange-flower water ; she 
looks into the dish). Oh, the island is mended 1 

Eug. Rejoice 

Betty. I think I do rejoice. 

Eug. {wj^iting). Rejoice, O, you who make us glad — 

Betty. Miss Eugenia is glad, too ! Oh, it is real foam ! If 
Mrs. Leroy could only see this ! 

Old C. {dictating). 

whose every thouglit is true, 

That our wish to-day, my mother, our dearest and our beat— 

{to BETTr) Powdered sugar and the orange. 

Eug. But that does not rhyme. 

Betty {looking at the dish). It does not rhyme, but it rises 
beautifully. 

Old C. {dictating). 

The power to make us hnppy is the dearest wish for j'ou, 
And for us that we mav merit to be thus forever blest. 



186 SCHOOL "exhibitions." 

Eug, (writing). That is exactly what I thought ; but it is you, 
cousin Kitty, who made the stanza. 

Betty. And the floating island, [taking the dish. To Eugenia) 
Ah, without your cousin I never should have succeeded. 

Eiig, {aside). Nor I. I do not linow how to thanlv you. (to 
Old Cousin.) 

Old C. For helping to rhyme your feelings ? Ah, my child, the 
important thing is to have them, and to prove them by j'our 
actions. 

Eug. Thank you, dear cousin. Ah, if you had not come, we 
should never have been ready. 

Old 0. Your mother might come, my dear ; hurry to finish 
your preparations. [Eugenia goes out at the right. 

Old C. {alone). There is another friend I have made. Now I 
have spies in the place, but it still remains to gain the com- 
mander. Here she comes! 

Enter Mes. L., at the end. 

Mrs. L. I have just settled for you at the office. 

Old C. Many thanks ; but we have now to settle something 
ourselves. Let us commence by sitting down and talking, {she 
sits down at the right. ) 

Mrs. L. [talcing a seat). Willingly. 

Old C. You were surprised wdien 3'ou received a letter an- 
nouncing my arrival. 

Mrs. L. I confess I did not expect the pleasure 

Old 0. Of receiving an old cousin whose m.me you have seen 
often enough on law-papers for fifteen years, [she draws pa- 
joersfrom her pocket) I have brought the papers to you. 

Mrs. L. {drily). I do not see what interest I can have in pa- 
pers which deprive me of half I possess. 

Old C. Excuse me ; but I have found a deed which my 
brother did not know of, and which proves j'our right to the 
property. Read it. 

Mrs. L. Yes ; here is the paper for which I looked so often, 
and for want of which my cause was lost. 

Old C. Happily it is recovered. 



SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS." 187 

Mrs. L. No ; it is too late. The decision of the judges is irre- 
vocable. 

Old 0. I think you are mistaken. When an injustice is com- 
mitted between honest people, there is always a tribunal at 
which to find justice. 

Mrs,L, What? 

Old C. Conscience, Mrs. Landon. {she rises ; Mrs. L. rises 
also) It is conscience which told me to bring j'ou this deed ; and 
if others can do nothing for the decision which deprives you of 
your property, it is for me to revoke it by renouncing the advan- 
tages of a wrong, and destroying the titles which give me a 
right to what should belong to you. 

Mrs. L. Is it possible ? (Old Cousin tears the papers into lit- 
tie 20ieces) O, Cousin Kitty ; such disinterestedness ! 

Old Cj Not at all. I give you back what belongs to you, and I 
take 3'our friendship, which did not belong to me. It is clear 
that I gain after all. 

Oar' \ (^^^^^'^^^ ^^^^ sce7ies). Miss Kitty ! Miss Kitty ! 

Mrs. L. What is the matter ? 

Old 0. Hush ! {she draws Mrs. L. toward the left. Eugenia 
and Caroline appear at the door at the end ; the first holds a 
hoguet in her hand ; the second is disguised as a Muse^ and 
holds the verses addressed to her mother. ) 

Eug. {entering). All is ready. 

Betty (entering at the right with her disJi). Miss Kitty, the 
floating island has succeeded ! 

Eug. {seeing Mrs. L.). Mamma! 

Betty. Mrs. Landon! 

Ca7\ Oh, what a pity! 

Old C. What difference does it make? We can tell j^our 
mother it is a surprise. 

Mrs. L. {aside). Besides, I knew all about it. {to Old Cousin) 
Were you in the secret? 

Car. I think she was! It was my cousin who furnished my 
head-dress. 

Eug. And my verses. 

Betty. Slie beat my eggs for me. 



188 SCHOOL "EXHIBmONS." 

i/?'5. Z. So she helped yon all to celebrate my birthday ; and, 
as if that were not enough to make her welcome, she has given 
up what the law-suit gave her, and restored to us all we had 
lost. 

Bug, Can it be? 

Ca7\ Such generosity ! 

Bett2/. And the young ladies were so sorry to see their country 
cousin arrive. (Eugenia and Caroline embarrassed.) 

Old C, {laughing). Oh, is that true ? 

Mrs. L. Yes, it is. 

Eug. {taking Old Cousin's hand). But now we know her ; we 
are so ashamed of our nonsense. 

Car. {taking the other haiid). Please forgive us ! 

Old C. I will do better, my dear children ; I will love you. 
{taking their arms under hei's) Only let this be a lesson for you; 
it proves the truth of an old proverb. 

Car' [^'hat proverb? 

Old C, You must not judge the tree by the bark. J 

curtain. 



Either of the following valedictory addresses may now he given; 
or, instead, the exercises of the evening may he terminated 
with the closmg chorus, ** Good night" which follows them. 

VALEDICTORY ADDRESS. 

[From •* Oliver Optic's Magazine.''] 

Fellow-scholars : Another year of our school life is finished, 
and many of us have come to-day for the last time. But whether 
we go or stay we shall all tind abundant cause to remember our 
school with gratitude. Day after day we have assembled here, 
and the associations which cluster around this place — more vivid 
in our minds to-day tlian ever before— can never be forgotten. 
They will go with us llirougli life, and form an important part in 
the individu:d experience of each one of us. 



SCHOOL ''EXHIBITIONS.' 

The events of this day and of the past school days are to be 
remembered and recalled with pleasure, perhaps with pride, 
when we have passed far down into the vale of years. As we 
hear the aged of to-day rehearse the scenes of their youth, so 
shall we revive the memories of our scliool when the battle of 
life has been fought, and we sit down to repose after the burden 
and heat of the day are passed. Then little incidents, which 
seem now hardly worth telling, will possess a deeper interest, 
and will linger long and fondly in the imagination. To-day 
with its trials and its triumphs will be regarded as an epoch in 
the career of some of us ; as a day worth remembering by all of 
us. 

We cannot take leave of these familiar walls, and sunder the 
pleasant associations which have bound us together here, with- 
out acknowledging the debt of gratitude we owe to our school 
and to our teachers for their fostering care. We have too little 
experience of the duties and responsibilities of active life fully to 
understand and appreciate the value of the intellectual and 
moral training we have received in this place ; but we know 
that we are the wiser and the better now for it. We know that 
without it we could achieve neither a moral nor a business suc- 
cess. 

To many of us the education we have obtained here will be 
our only capital in beginning life ; and, whatever of wealth and 
lionor we may hereafter win in the world, we shall be largely in- 
debted to our school for the means of success. 

Let us, then, ever remember our school with affection and 
gratitude. We shall ever feel a noble pride in those who have so 
wisely and so generously placed the means of education wliliin 
the reach of all. To the school officers of the present year, and 
to our- teachers, we return our sincere thanks for their hearty 
and continued interest in our w^elfare. 

And now, fellow-scholars, the class of this year will soon sep- 
arate, never again to be united in the school-room. May pros- 
perity and happiness attend both teachers and scholars in their 
future career ! 



190 SCHOOL ''exhibitions/' 

YALEDICTOEY ADDRESS. 

TO BE SPOKEN BY A LITTLE BOY AT A SCHOOL EXAMINATION. 

Valedictories are in fashion now, 

Therefore to-day I come, and make my bow, 

To thanlv you, patrons, who so kind have been, 

To list with patience to our simple scene. 

"We're pleased to see before us such a crowd 

Of visitors, of whom we're very proud ; 

And while we've tried to interest you all, 

We know in knowledg-e we are very small ; 

But we are all determined we will try 

To climb the hill of science very high ; 

And since we've had your presence here to-day. 

We think 'twill cheer us far along our way. 

And now, kind friends, just let me say to you. 

Our exercises here are nearly through ; 

And hoping that we have not wearied you, 

We bid you all a kind — a warm adieu. 

Teachers — our thanks to you let me express, 

For all your care and unweariedness ; 

And when we're parted may you ne'er forget 

This happy band whom you oft have met. 

Dear schoolmates— when to-morrow's rising sun 

Another day his journey has begun ; 

And when the chiming bell strikes on our ear, 

Think j'ou we all shall be assembled here ? 

Ah, no ! vacation days have surely come — 

To-morrow's sun will find us all at home. 

And a soft voice is whispering — " Though we part. 

Affection's wreath is twined around each heart ; " 

And until memory's brightest sun has set, 

These happy hours we will ne'er forget ; 

And now, though bound as if by magic spell. 

Teachers and schoolmates, we must say, farewell. 



SCHOOL " EXHIBITIONS. 



191 



CLOSING EXERCISE. 

We thank you that you responded to our invitation to visit us 
to-night, and we wish we could have entertained you in a more 
satisfactory manner. Our exercises are now closed, and we wish 
you a kind good night. 

Before the audience have time to rise, the whole school should 
join in singing the following song. The good-nights in the 
last verse might he repeated two, three or four times, if 
thought desirable. As soon as the pupils begin to sing 
good-night, in the last part of the last verse, it has a good 
effect to have them begin to leave the room, singing all the 
time. They could pass into other rooms, but it is better if 
they can go out of doors, as the sounds of the faint good 
7iights, coming from a distance, is very pleasant to the ear. 




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192 



SCHOOL "EXHIBITIONS/ 



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2. Good night! good night! Now to all a kind good night! 

Angel-like, while earth is sleeping, 
Stars above their watch are keeping, 
As the star of Bethlehem bright. 
Good night! good night! good night! 

3. Good night! good night ! Now to all. a kind good night! 

Slumber sweetly till the morning. 
Till the sun the world adorning, 
Rises in his glorious might ! 
Good night! good night ! good night! 



31.77-3 







LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




008 944 796 3 




